


City Lights

by TearoomSaloon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Study, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Some are straight up smut, Wedding Planning, much anxiety, some are fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 67,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6016099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearoomSaloon/pseuds/TearoomSaloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His apartment was small and their jobs were demanding, but they found time to share. Oh, did they find time.</p><p>Let's face it, this is a narrative told outside of chronological order, some parts more explicit than others. Tags for each part are in their summaries.<br/>Tags for the newest addition are in the tag list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Timeline of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my go-to when trying to cure bouts of writer's block on my big story. I have no goal as to an overall plot here so there's no real 'end point' per se. Not everything will be steamy, not everything will be nice.  
> Gosh darn it does that make it hard to tag.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! The first installment is through the button to your right!
> 
> This is the time table for all the vignettes, since chronological order went out a window and I've gotten a few requests to list them out in a timeline.  
> I've also added a list of what order I think they should be read in, but take me with a grain of salt. Go crazy.
> 
> This will be updated with each new part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come to the unfortunate realization that several of them jump around inside the actual piece. Bear with me here.

**Timeline Order**

**First Section: Leading Up**

1\. First Mistakes

2\. Panty Heist - First two sections

3\. (He's) Falling - First section

4\. (She's) Falling - First section

5\. Panty Heist - Last section

6\. Shark Tank

7\. Impacts

8\. (He's) Falling - Sections 2 & 3

9\. (She's) Falling- Sections 2 & 3

10\. No Need to Be Alone

11\. Dominatrix

 

**Second Section: Year One**

12\. Slow Days - First part

13\. Sundays at 3am

14\. Comfort Food

15\. Seeing Double

16\. Dominator

17\. Darling, You've Got to Let Me Know 

 

**Third Section: Year Two**

18\. Phone Screens

19\. If You Host It, They Will Come

20\. White Wedding

21\. Skeleton Closets

22\. Domesticate the Beast

23\. I Can't Take This Place

24\. Slow Days - Second part 

25\. In the House of Broken Toys

26\. Homecoming

27\. Gimmal

28\. After Midnight

29\. Pre-Preparation

30\. 27,000 Dresses

31\. Ballroom Blitz

* * *

**Recommended Reading Order**

1\. First Mistakes

2\. Panty Heist

3\. (He's) Falling

4\. (She's) Falling

5\. Shark Tank

6. No Need to Be Alone

7. Impacts

8\. Dominatrix

9 & 10\. Comfort Food & Sundays at 3am (they're interchangeable really)

11\. Seeing Double

12\. Dominator

13\. Darling, You've Got to Let Me Know

14\. Phone Screens

15\. If You Host it, They Will Come

16\. White Wedding

17\. Skeleton Closets

18\. Domesticate the Beast

19\. I Can't Take This Place

20\. Slow Days

21\. In the House of Broken Toys

22\. Homecoming

23\. Gimmal

24\. After Midnight

25\. Pre-Preparation

26\. 27,000 Dresses

27\. Ballroom Blitz


	2. Sundays at 3am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fuck like rabbits whenever they get the chance. She's always tired, but she hardly minds.
> 
> Drabble rating: E  
> Additional Tags: Smut, oral sex, dirty talk, sex toys

There was something special about how his skin looked in the 3am glow. It wasn't from the nightlight across the room, not from the sex flush still coating his chest, nor the backlight of her phone when she regretted checking the time, blind as a newborn for the next few minutes. No, it was none of those. It was the city that crept in through the cracks in his blinds, inking steadily along the broad plains of his shoulders, catching the ends of his hair when he lay on his stomach, his head turned to her. The colors were always faintly orange with a mix of whites and reds and blues, the din of the city calmed in the dim early morning hours. His apartment was small, not big enough for them both, and it made cozy the space.

"What are you smiling about, sunshine?" His grin was teasing; he knew how much she hated that pet name.

"Thinking about how much shit I'm going to give you in the morning when I've gotten five whole hours of sleep." She hummed to herself, lying on her side with her hands under the pillow. "More than three nights ago, less than I like."

Ben chuckled, searching out her fingers in the mountains of fluff. The man loved duvets and she was easily lost in the swarming sea of blues and whites. She let him have her hand reluctantly, a mock frown carefully in place.

"I think you'll give me maybe one good knock around the ears, no more after how _incredible_ that was." He inched closer to kiss the tip of her nose and her faked frigid exterior melted away. The look in his eyes grew lewd. "Your mouth never ceases to amaze me."

"Aren't you just a chaste little saint?"

"Hey, I'm not the one who begs her boyfriend to let her please him while she's blindfolded down on her knees."

"You weren't being _fair_ , though. What else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, enjoy getting eaten out? You were moaning loud enough to wake up my neighbor. I know the woman looks like a sweet old basket of kittens, but she was a tramp in her day and she's _never_ going to let me live your screams down." He kissed her full on the lips, his words filthy but his actions affectionate and somewhat pure.

She knew he loved sex with her—moaned it seven different ways to Sunday a half hour ago—but his wants were deeper in nature, always had been since that first abysmal date. A year later and Rey was very grateful she gave second chances. "And what's wrong with a little teasing every now and again?"

"From you, nothing. From her, a world of embarrassment."

"You just openly talk to your neighbor about our sex life?"

"Hard to avoid the conversations when she says she's unable to sleep with you _moaning_ so loudly each time." His hand trailed down her stomach and dipped under the waistband of the panties she'd somehow managed to find. A whimper was dragged from her throat and she knew he was grinning in the dim light.

"You are _no_ help, Ben Solo."

"I'm a _great_ help, darling. Help to myself, that is, seeing that I am unable to control myself when your voice gets heady."

In that moment, Rey hated him. Hated her stupid, ridiculous, tall as a skyscraper boyfriend who had never, in the year they'd been dating, passed up an opportunity to stick his hand down her pants. He found the correct way to touch her into a symphony with ease and had yet to give up on his dastardly tactics. She loved him, but she hated it.

He nudged her onto her back for a better angle, fingers toying around the edges of her folds. She rolled her eyes, irritated by the slowness. "Are we going to do this _again_ tonight?"

"No, I'm just going to finish what I started since you didn't finish with me."

"How many times do I have to tell you we can call it a night without me coming?"

"It's not fair."

"Yeah, it's not fair, but it feels good anyway so I don't care." She laced her hands into his dark hair, forcing him to keep eye contact. "I'm not easy, it sucks but I've learned to deal with it, and I have to sleep. I've got to be at work on time, not five minutes late looking like I've been dragged through a wet swampy hell."

His grin passed devious and went down the road of straight-up evil. "I'm not preventing you from sleeping."

" _Ben_."

He pecked a kiss at her jaw before starting a trail down her neck and chest, stopping to kiss each breast. "Just a few minutes, Rey, that's all I ask."

"No, I need to _sleep_."

She was rewarded with a light nip to her clit over the soft cotton of her panties. "Sorry, I've got other plans."

"So now we've flipped roles and you're begging to please your girlfriend?"

"I don't beg; I take what I want." His eyes held an intimidating possessiveness that always made heat curl down her spine. The sheer power he exuded tended to coax more want out of her than she'd ever admit to him. She liked when he was rough—all teeth and nails and iron grips—but she'd never tell him, it would just encourage him to be gruff in public and _that_ would lead to single-stall bathrooms and the exhilaration of trying not to get caught.

He pulled the fabric of her underwear away and met her with a closed mouth, pressing a kiss to where her hip met her inner thigh. "You're incredibly beautiful, not sure if I've ever told you before."

"Only about twice a day for the past four hundred odd days. You're riddled with lust right now."

"I'm always riddled with lust for you." He drew a sharp breath before drawing his tongue languidly up her entrance, stopping to suck gently on her clit. "Do you want this quick and dirty or agonizingly slow?"

"I want to go to _sleep_ ," she whined, already missing his warmth on her skin. _Thanks body, great to know you're a traitor too_.

Her underwear found the floor for a second time that night. "Good, I like it fast and hard better anyway."

The end was nigh. There was no escaping this man.

She had to bite her hand to stop the low groan that came clawing up her ribs when he slipped two fingers inside, mouth still on her more sensitive spot. His fingers were a little cold and she clenched against the feeling, causing him to chuckle against her. Oh, fuck, that felt fantastic.

His free hand locked around one of her thighs, preventing her from rocking against him. Bastard, fucking evil goddamn son of a—

"You can't be actively trying to ride my face _and_ trying to sleep at the same time. One or the other, _sweetheart_."

"I hate that fucking name, Jesus _fucking_ —"

"Language, darling. I know you grew up in the woods but these _swears_ , girl. Whatever will I do with that dirty mouth?"

"Probably stick your huge cock in it."

"Again?" He curled his fingers inside her and she yelped, white goodness spiking her senses. "Maybe in the morning."

Dipping back down, he was quick to turn her into jelly. A master with his tongue, he darted quickly then steadily, his pace erratic and frustrating. Shallow lick, deep thrust of fingers, nibble on her clit, quick short pumps with one, two, fuck, _three_ fingers. Was he trying to fill her up or — _Christ._

"Are you going to keep swearing until dawn or actually come for me tonight?" he asked after a particularly languid lave.

"I don't know." Her voice was weak and strangled with arousal. "I need you, Ben."

He rolled over her clit with his thumb, rubbing small, slow circles. "Well, here I am."

"No, I need you _in_ me. Please."

"Then we'll be up another hour. Pass me the bullet?"

With a whine, Rey nudged herself onto her elbows and scrambled a shaky hand through his nightstand drawer, pulling out a small silk bag. She tossed it to him before sinking back into the bedding, spine refusing to work properly. He pulled out a small pale green silicone vibrator and she knew from that moment on she was doomed.

A kiss to her clit, he teased the bullet around her thighs first, then her entrance, bringing it to press against her clit. _Hard_. The pressure of it drove her wild combined with the sensation of his long, dexterous fingers stroking breathy moans inside her. He found a sweet spot and she lost control, her climax deafening and blinding. All senses but touch were lost until the overstimulation kicked in and she was edging on sore, the bullet still pulsing against her.

He smirked at her when she came down, his eyes full of mischievousness. "One day I'm getting a remote bullet for use during dinner parties."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Picture it," he said softly, taking a tissue from the box by the bed before passing her a few. "You in some gorgeous dark ensemble, the very definition of grace." Toy wrapped for cleanup in the morning, her inched back up to her, leaving wet kisses on puckered skin. "All the while trying your best to keep quiet against the vibrator in your hot, tight pussy, never knowing when it'll go off." He bit her neck softly enough that no mark remained, but hard enough that she gasped. "And I'll be across the table from you, grinning like a madman the whole time, knowing how rough you'll take me when we leave."

"Has anyone told you that you're practically Satan, Ben?"

"On numerous occasions, usually in a less entertaining context."

He rolled onto his side, nudging her to fold into him. She obliged with a small smirk and an eye roll; she was _not_ the cuddler of this relationship and she was not the one who went out of the way to spoon whenever they lay beside one another. He'd probably kill her if she admitted to him she thought it was adorable.

"My mother's coming up next weekend."

"Is that why you brought up the remote vibrator?"

"God no, _no_ that will _not_ be tested out around my mom. She'll know somehow, she knows everything somehow."

"It'll be nice to meet her finally."

"She'll love you, I promise."

Rey yawned, drowsiness starting to overtake her body. Sick of their position already, she wriggled around to face him, kissing him softly, the taste of her faint on his lips. He grinned down at her, contentedness calm across his face. His skin mixed beautifully with the orangey hues of the city lights, making brilliant his smile. Oh, yes, she loved this time of night best.


	3. First Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's the new intern, he manages a different department. Fate likes to push adversaries into unlikely situations.
> 
> Drabble Rating: T  
> Additional tags: Meet Cute, kinda fluffy, inklings of a plot, enter Poe and Finn!

She's fresh out of the jungle, for a lack of a better term.

The new intern down in design eats like a starved animal and laughs like a hyena. Her cheeks are still stained rosy from her overseas exploits and her tan has yet to fade, making her look strange and out of place in the growing chill of pale fall. She isn't learning in his department so they haven't been introduced, but he knows her supervisor well and can't help himself from asking about the pretty but annoying curiosity filling Jean's old place.

Dameron cocks an eyebrow, somewhat surprised he needs to ask. "That's Kenobi's grandkid."

" _Sir_ Benjamin Kenobi's spawn? _The_ Sir Ben Kenobi. We have _his_ relative in our program?"

"Guess she doesn't take after the family much." Dameron shrugs and sips his coffee. "She's been out in the Great Victoria Desert with him for the past few months doing research on skinks."

"What's she doing _here?_ "

"Studying for her MEng apparently."

" _She's_ a grad student?"

"Older than she looks. Brilliant, too."

Ben sighs, not getting anywhere. "Can you do anything about her table manners?"

"Worried about how the execs will take it?"

"I'm an executive, dumbass."

Dameron bites his lip. They've known each other for too long not to be familiar and it bleeds into their work more than it should. He recovers graceful as always. "I'll talk to her about it."

It takes the walk back to his office to realize he didn't ask for the intern's name. No matter, he was sure he'd hear it soon enough.

However, he doesn't expect to learn it from a screaming match. It's playful from what he can tell, but too loud, too disruptive. The engineering interns occasionally work with the developers in the basement levels of the building in great big white spaces littered with tools and pencils. He needs to speak with a particular dev about a blueprint proposal that's going up in a few hours—has a few details he can't _quite_ read—and he makes the trip himself, knowing he'll never get Jantz into his office.

The messy girl with the wild hair is _shouting_ at Dameron's gold-star prodigy—he's an intern who transferred from another company, his name is Frank or Finn or Fred, something like that. The two are verbally duking it out over a drafting table about some _incredibly_ minor detail. She's pointing a wrench threateningly at him, but she's smirking as she's doing it.

This needs to stop _now_.

He's beside them immediately, a tall looming adversary in a black three-piece suit and dark red tie. He knows he's an intimidating presence and the nonsense stops the second he's wedged himself between it.

"I do not care who started it," he begins, passing a cold gaze over the two of them, "but you'll both stop it, _now_."

They quiet instantly. Forrest talks. "Dr. Solo, we weren't—"

"I don't care, just quit yelling. You're giving me agita." He does his best to keep up the cold politician's mask he inherited from his mother. "Could one of you _calmly_ find Jantz?"

The annoying pair exchange a look and the girl answers him. "Jantz?"

Lord. "Short, big laugh, too young to be as grey as he's getting."

"Oh, Dr. Franklin. Rey could you—"

The girl nods and hurries off, leaving her coworker uncomfortably in the company of the dark suit who runs the show many stories above this floor. He's not really inclined to speak and pulls out his phone, making quick changes to his calendar. He'll have to skip meeting with Susan from financial for lunch and push back the appointment with—

"Ben!"

Ever the authority-disrespecting wiseass. He smiles big and claps the eccentric engineer on the back. "Jantz, just the man I needed to see." As they lead off to a different part of the drafting room, he catches the girl's eyes on him. She looks determined, almost aggressive in her frustration. She's upset by authority? Good. Cry yourself a waterfall, little jungle cat. This was _his_ turf.

* * *

 

"What the hell is his problem?" Rey asks when the big black eagle disappears from earshot. "Why's he bothering with us if he's a _doctor?_ "

"PhD, not medical. That's Benjamin Solo, the vice chair of some department or another."

The name rings a few bells, but she doesn't know why. "And what's his job?"

"Generally making life miserable and pushing production speed until we all die." Finn shrugs and glares at the door behind which Solo has disappeared. "And being a downright asshole."

"He looks awfully young to be a _vice chair_."

"You know Skywalker up in Flight Operations?"

That man is a legend. "Of course, what about him?"

"That's his uncle."

"So it's all a game of spoils?"

"No, I think the family is just talented."

Rey mulls Finn's words over for the rest of her shift. She glances up when movement crosses her line of sight, catching eyes with Solo when he leaves. He looks cocky and she glares for a split second before returning to her work. She isn't interested in losing this internship and she keeps her trap shut, vowing to avoid the grim reaper at every turn.

She takes the subway downtown with Finn when they finish their mockup draft of a basic wing part, neither satisfied but both too hungry to keep pressing into the late night. Besides, she has classes tomorrow morning and doesn't want to risk coming in like a zombie, graphite marks coating her face when she doesn't have the time to shower.

He's lived in this city for the better half of the past eight years, attending college and working a few odd jobs and internships. She decides he probably has a better clue about where to eat and what bars to check out so she follows him down into the lower east side.

"You haven't had _real_ American Chinese food before, have you?" he asks when they step off the platform, hurrying out to escape the rancid smell of sweat and machinery.

"I didn't know there was _fake_ American Chinese food, though the whole thing sounds like an oxymoron."

Finn laughs. He's got a great big grin—it's friendly, she likes it. "C'mon, I know a great little hole in the wall."

The restaurant is loud, small, and dim. The colors on the walls are all shades or reds, browns, and golds, giving the air of a distant place in a faraway time. Spices and smoke hang heavy in the air and the candles on the table obscure the tone of her skin. She doesn't know a thing on the menu and gives up less than halfway through the dishes, opting to ask Finn what he recommends. He says everything, which is no help.

The beer is a little sour and tastes faintly of plums, but it's rich and cold and she loves how it goes with the rice and duck dish that she mistakenly ordered. It's weird to be here, weird and surreal, like she's drifting around outside herself. Months of being surrounded by sand and scrub has left her a little lonely, and though she loves her grandfather, he isn't the most understandable man. But here, she likes here.

They part ways after dinner with a brief hug and she has to jog a few blocks to catch the B home across the river. She walks the few streets to her apartment on the high alert that had set in the moment her feet hit the ground after dark. She unlocks the door to her tiny apartment after a few tries with the deadbolt and is greeted by the sweet, sweet sound of utter silence…minus the traffic outside. This place can never seem to sleep and it suits her fine.

In the darkness of her small studio space, she lays on her sparse bed with her laptop on her stomach, scrolling through any information she can find on this Ben Solo. His accomplishments seem impressive and she hates him more for that. Eight years her senior and twenty years ahead in the business, what a jackass.

 

Morning comes and she trips over another box she swears she'll unpack one of these days. Rey has been in the states for two months now but still can't seem to find the time to get her life outside of school in order. She thought taking a year and a half off would help her organize but no, god no. She's out the door on time thankfully and arrives to class in _real_ clothes, not another suit jacket or a skirt. She's so thankful to have all that ridiculous training out of the way.

"How many classes _are_ you taking this semester?" Finn asks when he sets down across from her for coffee, eying the tall pile of textbooks beside her computer.

"Three. Feels better than college but I am _drowning_ under the work."

"Wait until next year, then _everything_ starts to fall apart. Social life, bills, job. Everything."

"Thanks for the assurance, Mr. Optimist." She takes a bite of the muffin sitting neglected by her coffee. "What time are you on today?"

"Like, four-something. You?"

"I'm due in at one."

"You're on your own for dinner tonight."

"I'm also on my own with the man in black."

Finn rolls his eyes. "We're _engineering_ interns working on _wings_. He works with the _rocket scientists_."

She feels her jaw drop a little. "Of _course_ he does."

"So you're fine, Rey, you're not going to run into him."

 

Oh, but she was.

She _was_.

It turns out they took coffee breaks at the same time on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. She would see him in the shop closest to their building and duck immediately out of his sight, paralyzed with the fear of getting the boot. He seems to hate her more than she can justifiably understand and she _really loves_ this internship. But alas, her luck has never been good, and after two weeks of dodged interactions, she turns and spills her drink all down his front.

It's clichéd as hell, it's horrible, and instead of apologizing, she says: "Did you have to stand so close to me?"

She bites her tongue the second the sentence leaves her mouth. Here comes the pulsing regret and the getting fired. It was here, it was here, it was—

"Have you ever looked before leaping, girl?" The papers in his hands are sopping wet but his suit is free of hot liquid. He looks pissed beyond all measure.

"Yes, in fact, and this wouldn't have happened if you weren't _breathing down my neck_." Where was this coming from? Why was she saying this?

"Apologies that you've lived in the _jungle_ for the better half of a year, but cities are crowded and there is no room for personal space."

"Desert. Australian desert."

"Whatever. Could you move so I can _order_ , or are you here to deny me a caffeine fix on top of verbally assaulting me?"

He…he isn't going to fire her?

"You're not giving me the boot?"

"Hadn't considered it until now."

Oh, lord. What was she supposed to do? Bribe him? Offer favors—sexual favors? Suck his dick?—cry, bargain? What? She couldn't lose this opportunity—

"Can I get you dinner?"

What the _fuck_.

The barista fixing his drink has the good mind to not pay their conversation heed. Solo raises a tall eyebrow. "I didn't know we were paying interns enough to take executives out to _dinner_."

No, no, no, no, _no_.

"Small, not fancy. Erm, I—"

Second eyebrow goes up. "A _date_?"

Fuck.

"No."

He gives her a once over after he hands the cashier his card. "Collect your thoughts and figure out what it is you're trying to do here."

"I can't lose this internship and I don't want to get sacked."

"You'll be grateful to know I can't sack you, nor would I for something so petty as spilled coffee." Card back, wallet replaced in the pocket of his sweeping overcoat. "What time are you off tonight?"

Oh Christ, no, she didn't want this. "Can't we forget the whole—"

"Dear, dear, but you already offered. It would be rude of me to decline."

His voice is soft but grating with mockery. She can't stand him. "Eight."

"Perfect, I'll fetch you."

* * *

 

He doesn't know why he's torturing her. Descending the stairs to the first of the basement labs, he finds her on the small pale peach bench between the elevators, rubbing her fingers together nervously. She at least has on slacks, but her top is a denim button-down smeared with grease and charcoal. He's a vision of meticulous tailoring and she looks like a mechanic's daughter—no matter where she takes him, one of them will stick out sorely.

"Can we please just call this off? I don't actually know a lot of places to eat." She's not looking up from her feet.

"It's a big city, there are hundreds of places to go."

"We don't know each other."

"That's the point of dinner."

She looks up and cocks an eyebrow. "You hate me."

"I think you can be annoying but I don't hate you." Besides, she _was_ pretty when she wasn't acting like a savage. "If you don't have anywhere in mind, I know a few places close by. If it all goes poorly, we don't ever have to speak again."

He winds up choosing and takes her a few blocks up to a little French restaurant where the walls are blue and the lighting is green and orange, a mood like the shore settling on the tables and chairs. It's dark enough inside that the stains on her shirt blend into the dark blue material. He is overdressed for this place, but she would be underdressed anywhere else.

She orders a beer before he has the chance to buy a wine for the table and bites his tongue at the uncouthness. Jungle girl can live like she's in the jungle for all he cares. He gets a cocktail instead.

The silence between them is thick and uncomfortable.

"What made you come here to study?" he asks after too long a pause.

"Oh, it's somewhere new I had yet to visit. I haven't spent a lot of time in big cities so I thought it might be a nice change of pace. It bustles, I like it." She takes a sip of her drink. Foam catches on her lips and he finds himself watching as she licks it away. "You have a doctorate in…"

"Astrodynamics. I make the satellites go round in circles."

She smiles a little, the tension easing. "I feel like you're oversimplifying things."

"Me? Never. Always drawn out to the last detail." He decides then that he likes her smile, how it reaches up to her eyes. "You're here for your MEng. Surprised you're not off for a biology masters."

"Granddad would have liked that, but…" She folds her hands and rests her chin atop, gaze elsewhere. "Don't tell the old man, but I've always liked machines better than creatures. That, and I've always loved the stars."

"So instead of being an astronaut, you want to build the ships?"

"Don't think I'd like being stuck in such a small space for so many months. Would you?"

"I've never given it a second thought."

Their food arrives and he can see her deliberate the manner in which she intends to eat. She waits for him, following slowly instead of scarfing it all down at once. He's entertained to say the least.

A few bites into his meal, he breaks the less-uncomfortable quiet. "Where was your favorite place you've visited?"

"That's an unfair question." She sets down her fork to think. "I loved Sigiriya, but that was more of a detour than research. Granddad did some work with the elephants in Sri Lanka though. Tibet was beautiful too, and New Zealand. It's hard to choose."

"I didn't realize you're a bona fide world traveler."

"My grandfather's a naturalist, of course he's taken me everywhere."

"And you go and settle in a city with a few great big parks and even bigger skyscrapers, content in the basement of a building in midtown."

"It's a new world to compare against the one I've known. I like it here."

"Which is nice to hear. We tend to take a lot of pride in our city." He finishes off his drink, setting the glass down lightly. "This isn't as horrible as you thought it would be, is it?"

"Still not convinced you don't hate me." She says it with a smirk.

"What if I let you pick the next place we go?"

"Dinner and a movie is too much of a date. How do you feel about a jazz club?"

He likes jazz clubs.

He likes the ambient blue and purple of the lights, how they make the white furniture change in hue with the slightest shift of shadows. The violets play well around her dark hair and hazel eyes, making her teeth glow whenever she laughs. Usually when he goes out with coworkers, they wind up at a bar cheering on one sports team or another. For a group of math geniuses and physicists, they all surprisingly got far too worked up about a game of football. This also isn't how he sees Susan, their interactions loaded like a hot pistol ready to go off, but neither can bother pulling the trigger. Maybe they should stop toying with each other one of these days and just cut the lunch scandal loose.

"Rey." Her name rolls nicely around his mouth. She turns from watching the band to look at him. God, she's young. "What got you into jazz?"

"Finn, believe it or not. He's one of the other interns. First week we met he took me here."

He frowns a little. "Are you two…?"

"No." She laughs, shaking her head at the thought. "We're just friends, and I think he's got a thing for someone else." She shifts so she faces him entirely, taking a sip of her electric blue drink. "And you, are you seeing anyone?"

"I have lunch with a woman I cannot stand, does that count?"

She smirks a little, eyes bright. "No, I don't think it does."

"I've been doing this the wrong way for years, then."

Her laugh is starting to grow on him, untamed and exuberant. "Don't worry, so have I."

He's starting to think she's not so annoying after all. Maybe she's even a little cute.

That last thought throws him into an uncomfortable corner when it’s gotten far too late, he’s just a little _too_ tipsy, and they both need sleep. He’s battling himself and he’s not doing too well.

“You live in _where_ in Brooklyn?” The trains have stopped running anywhere near her, it’s late, it’s so goddamn late.

“I figured I could walk a couple blocks.”

A _couple_ blocks. “Alone? Do you have any idea how stupid of an idea that is?”

“What else do you suggest?”

“I live uptown, the 4 is still running.” He rolls his eyes when she folds her arms. “I’m not suggesting anything unsavory.”

She concedes, exhaustion getting the better of her. They are quiet most of the way there and she leans against his arm, unsteady from the motion and the alcohol. He leads her off at the 77th street stop and he can tell she’s a little off-put by where in the city they happen to be.

“You’re rich, aren’t you?”

“Hardly. But if you mean I pay too much money to live in a shoebox, then yes.”

He lives on an upper floor of a moderately tall apartment building. He swears the reason he’s shelling out so much money is the view he gets from his bedroom windows, certainly not for his apartment’s size. He would call it a decent space until there are more than two people in the place and it immediately becomes cramped. He likes Spartan rooms but he gets too sentimental and has collected a lot of useless shit over the years.

Flicking the lights on in the kitchen, he takes her through the rooms. “Bedroom is in the back, bathroom is to its right.” He walks by her into his bedroom, already knowing it’s messy and he’s embarrassed by the fact that it’s messy. “Do you want pajamas?”

“Really, you don’t need to trouble yourself that much.”

“You’re a guest, it’s no trouble.”

“Ben, really.”

She used his name.

He likes his name on her tongue.

She’s in front of him looking unsure of herself. They’ve had way too much to drink for this situation, this time. God, god, but the light is hitting the skin of her neck in the perfect way. She touches his arms and he freezes, but something about his expression makes her smile. Up on her toes, she kisses his cheek. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

That does him in. She’s cute. She’s fucking cute and he holds her steady as he bends to kiss her. It’s hard, passionate, and raw, full of lust and want. He breaks away when he realizes what he’s doing, realizes that he’s not thinking with his brain. She’s a little wide-eyed but she’s breathing hard, her cheeks fully flushed.

“I’m…” How does he explain that? “You’re quite pretty and I’m easy when drunk.”

“Well.” Her hands are still on his arms, her grip a little tense. “I think we shouldn't talk about... _that_ if we're not alone.”

"But if we're alone?”

"Ask me again in the morning." She bites her lip, conflicted. “But Finn will kill me if he finds out.”

“So don’t tell him.”

He kisses her again—he can’t help himself—and heads for the couch, closing the bedroom door as he leaves. The taste of coconut rum and curaçao will haunt his dreams for the next few nights.


	4. (He's) Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twice Ben Solo thinks something is coming to a boil, then finally it hits him.
> 
> Drabble rating: E  
> Additional tags: Oral sex, fluff, dirty talk, she's got him fallin' in love pretty hard

He’s woken up to pounding at his front door, the sound echoing through the apartment. So he gets up, stumbles a little in a groggy stupor, and claws the deadbolt away. It’s ten in the morning so he has no excuse, but it’s a Saturday after a long night of drinking, so his hangover gets full reins.

He yanks the door open with the enviable grace of an elephant to see her standing in the hallway, face cross and hands on her hips. She’s fully dressed. He’s in a worn out t-shirt and boxers.

“Good morning, Sunshine.”

“You have some things I need.”

She pushes by him without waiting for a ‘come on in, Rey, it’s good to see you.’ At once she’s tearing for his bedroom, sinking her talons into his bedding and tossing pillows about. His brain wakes up.

“Whoa, whoa, what the _hell_ has gotten into you?”

Hand on the doorframe he’s halfway in the room, panicked and a little nervous. She looks like she’s got the fires of hell on her heels and her eyes are glinting with determination. Whatever she wants, she’s not leaving without it.

She mumbles something, slightly placated for a disoriented moment.

“Pardon?”

“My _underpants_ , Ben Solo, you’re hording every _fucking_ pair I own. I want them back.” She’s gone beet red.

“There’s no _possible_ way—”

“I just did the wash, I’ve got two clean pairs. Where do you keep putting them?”

He never realized he was such a panty thief.

“Oh. Shit. Um, hold on a moment.”

What was happening had good intentions behind it, but his execution was piss poor. She’d come over some nights after work, they swear they’d just have dinner and get to bed, but he had no self-control around her and he’d have her bent over some piece of furniture before the end of the night (on occasion she’d have _him_ leaning on the kitchen table begging for _sweet_ mercy) and her underwear would always go missing. She’d leave in a hurry for work the next morning without them (he takes full advantage of these days with wandering fingers whenever she’s in his office alone). He would find them somewhere, usually tossed on the floor, once or twice on the ceiling fan above his bed. He’d then throw them in with his laundry with the intent to give them back the next time she was over, but instead she just sacrificed another pair to his whorish needs.

He rustles through the one unused drawer of his dresser and pulls out an armload of clean underwear, all hers. They vary in color and pattern but are all more girlish than womanly, with frilly patterns, pastel hearts, and cute bows. Her eyes bug a bit when she sees how many he’s got stashed away.

“What the _fuck_ , Ben.”

“I’m sorry! You keep leaving them here when you scurry off like the sheets will fry you if you stay in my bed too long!”

She laughs for a short moment before noticing the strained look on his face. “I thought you’d want me to leave when I got up.”

“No, I want you in my bed pretending to sleep so when _I_ wake up I can go down on you for the fourth or fifth time.”

She bites her lip so slightly. He knows that’s her favorite damn thing about sleeping with him, the fact that he can’t stop putting his head between her legs. The _sounds_ she makes, oh lord the _sounds_.

He takes a thick breath. Something’s come to fruition in his rattled brain. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I was going to eat cold Chinese food in my pajamas while getting my soul wrecked by one of my mid-semester projects until I pass out on my couch. Why?”

“I have Fall tickets to the ballet—well, they’re my mother’s, but she’s not flying out here just to see it.”

She goes quiet. “I don’t have any nice dresses.”

“Buy me coffee and we can amend that.”

“Are you…” Rey tilts her head, squinting. “Are you asking me out?”

“Bound to happen, isn’t it?”

“No! I’m supposed to ask _you_ out! I’ve been trying to come up with the perfect—” She stops and glares at him. “You one-up me at everything and I hate you for it.”

He tosses the panties on the bed so his hands are free to slip around her waist. “I can give you the tickets and we can pretend I didn’t say it first.”

“If I’m taking you somewhere it’s more likely a shitty bar in the Village with mason jar candles and some horrible misanthrope at the microphone.”

“Perfect.” He kisses her cheek, excited to finally share with her all this sickeningly sugary pent-up affection he’s found buried somewhere in his chest. “Help me pick out my worst pair of jeans?”

She laughs. “You own _jeans?_ ”

* * *

They’re sprawled on his couch one crisp October evening, her head in his lap, his hand down her pants (she isn’t lying, he always does this the second they’re alone), and she’s trying her very best not to squirm and groan while they’re marathoning some string of awful horror movies from the 60s. He’s not actually interested in what’s happening but _she_ is, and he’s doing his damnedest to distract her.

“If you wanted to _really_ pay attention, you could have watched these at home,” he says casually as he _finally_ manages to draw a whine from her.

“I _wanted_ to spend time with _you_ , but this is _not_ what I had in mind.”

“I thought you wanted to come over and watch movies?”

“ _Watch_ movies, I wanted— _fuck, Ben_.”

He hit that one spot, he can tell from the look in her eyes. She’s a little dazed and he knows she’ll be losing her words soon enough. He leans down to steal the next moan from her mouth. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Please just let me sit up.”

He removes his hand from her pajama bottoms and lets her up, licking his soiled fingers in a deliberately slow manner. She watches in a trance a moment before smacking his shoulder playfully and moving to sit in his lap, her head under his chin. He likes the smallness of her curled into his frame and he tucks his arms neatly around her waist before kissing the top of her head.

“Better?”

“You’re such a pushover.”

He bites her neck for the comment, chuckling against her skin. “I told you the first night—you make me easy.”

“You said you’re an easy _drunk_.”

“I lied about the wording a bit.” He’s getting to be so soft around her; it’s disgusting. “You are _incredibly_ pretty though, that was the truth.”

She smiles at him—grins, really—and he makes a quiet vow to burn the whole city down if someone were to take her smile away.

* * *

 

He’s flat on his back, it’s New Years—or rather, it’s 11-something on December 31st—and the most beautiful thing he’s ever had the pleasure to touch is perched on top of him, her skin coated with a light sheen that glows in the city lights. Her hair’s an utter mess, thick with sweat and full of pins she didn’t bother to remove before mounting him and driving him mad. His hands are iron on her hips and his legs are a little shaky. She’s so _hot_ around him; so damn _tight_ that he’s doing everything he can to not lose himself before she peaks again. He arches his back and _moans_ her name louder than he ever thought he would.

“ _You’re_ getting loud?” she asks through hot breaths, her thighs no doubt exhausted by now. “That’s a new accomplishment for me.” She stops dead and slides off him, making him whimper, hands clamped harder on her hips.

“Rey, please, don’t stop.”

“Moan for me.”

“What?” He’s not hearing her right through this lust-addled fog.

“ _Moan_ for me, Ben Solo.” She dips to kiss his neck, bite his ear. “I want to hear you scream when you come for once.”

“I don’t—”

She’s palming his balls with one hand and his head rolls back. Fuck this woman. He’d fuck this woman to hell.

With a roar, he tackles her over onto her back, pinning her hands above her head. She always gets doe-eyed when he gets aggressive and the unfamiliar submissiveness never ceases to wham him hard in the chest with sheer want and overblown possessiveness. Fuck, he loves her.

Wait.

He loves her?

Stunned by his own thoughts, she manages to wriggle from his grasp and flip them back around so her legs are caging his hips. But as he’s scrambling to understand this new idea that’s popped up and refuses to leave, she moves down and—

“Do you have any idea where that’s _been?_ ”

“Yeah.” She licks up from the base of his cock and his toes stop existing. “In me. I know where _I’ve_ been.”

“You can’t.”

She swirls around the head and he has a hard time breathing, already so fucking aroused from her riding him, her breasts swaying above him, her head back as he hit a particularly sensitive spot—

“I can.” She’s got one hand stroking him now and his fingers are wrapped up in the bed sheets to the point where he’s afraid they’ll fray. Or he would be afraid if his brain were thinking good with stuff.

“This is going to end up on your face if you don’t— _stop_.” He groans loudly and feels it hum deep in his chest. It brings her gaze up to his. If he had a little less control, he’d probably lose everything from the way she looks so pleased to have him buried in her mouth. “Get back up here, we’re doing this together.”

She kisses his tip after pulling him out and good _god_ could she get any sexier? He doesn’t think so, but she’ll prove him wrong if he makes any comments. “This would be doing it together.”

“It’s New Years Eve and god dammit I want to end the year looking _up_ at your face, not _down_ at my cock. I can do that most nights by myself.”

“Fine, fine.” She returns up to him and kisses him hard before mounting him again. Her face looks so perfect in that split second each time, a look of blissful fullness. He doesn’t last very long with one of her hands on his chest and he does moan her name, loudly enough that she has to kiss him to make him shut up.

She finishes herself off quickly and settles down on his chest, breath coming in heavy on his skin. “Better?”

“So much better.” He’s still in some wild world of white haze and he wraps his arms around her so tightly, god he could hold her here forever. “Glad we left that party?”

“I’m glad to not have to talk to Hux for a second longer. He’s _beyond_ infuriating, I don’t know how you do it.”

“With a lot of practice.” Ben ducks his head down to pepper her cheeks with kisses, an elated feeling spilling from his ribs. He thinks he does love her—quite a lot, in fact—but they’ve only been seeing each other for a few months and he…he doesn’t want to scare her away. So he’ll keep quite for a while longer. Until then, well—

Rey giggles, tugging at his hair. “You can be pretty cute, you know that?”

“Please, I’m not half as good as you.” He buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down until she groans in pleasure.

She deserved so much better than him and he wasn’t sure why she stuck around, but he was glad for it. Fuck, he was so glad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben Solo is a fucking soft-hearted pushover, pass it on.


	5. (She's) Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An abysmal date and a little bit of domestic banter have to happen before she realizes what's beginning to bloom in her own chest.
> 
> Drabble rating: Explicit. Very explicit at the end there, but relatively not smutty until the last section.  
> Tags: Drama and romance, fluff, semi-domestic fluff, smut (see above), dirty talks, Ben is filthy, filthy, filthy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been like mad-enjoying your comments, bros (sometimes I just suck at getting back to them but damn they make me smile) and I can't say I didn't write some of this because of little hinted suggestions. Damn it gets steamy at the end there.

She doesn't want to say it's grungy, but it is. The music is better than she promised and she thinks that's okay, but she realizes she has no idea what kind of music he likes. They've been hooking up for a month, but it's never been about much more than the sex. And it's good, she's not complaining, she just…doesn't know who he is as a person. They spoke about themselves a little that first night, but since, it's been nothing but teeth and moans, with exhausting nights and large coffee mornings.

He's cute though. Rey steals a glance at Mr. Tall Dark and Corporate from over her beer. His eyes are on the performers to her left, head turned to expose the long pale length from his jaw to the collarbone peaking from his V-neck. He dressed down for her—to the point where he was almost unrecognizable—and she decides she likes him in thin shirts and leather jackets, his boots climbing midway up his calves. But there's that ever-posh look about his aquiline nose and thick brows he'll never be fully able to shake.

Her eyes dart away when he turns back to take a sip of his bourbon, long fingers cradling his glass. For two people who have been intimate, they both seem so uncomfortable around each other.

"This isn't as whiny as you said it would be."

"Yeah."

"The alcohol's not too shitty either."

"It's not." She takes a swig of her beer to avoid talking again. A fear begins to creep up her spine. They're good in bed together, but what if they're not good together at anything else? Maybe they should just cut the night's losses, go home, fuck, and she can leave early in the morning before he wakes up.

It sounds like a good idea. He doesn't seem to be all that interested in her and her heart sinks a little further down in her chest. Finn had warned her—warned her the _second_ she told him about when they'd gone out to dinner—but she'd been too pigheaded to listen. She should have listened. Ben Solo likes to play with his food before dumping it uneaten into the trashcan.

She loses herself to her microbrew while the internal debate takes place. On one hand, she can cut her losses and get out without too much heartache. It's not like she _invested_ a lot of emotions into him. It's not like he's been her first thing since that god-awful college boyfriend who left her hanging from _so many_ metaphorical cliff faces. It's not like she had a little hope.

"I'll be right back," she says as she pushes herself up from their booth, twisting through the tables and laughing faces to the lady's room. She needs a moment to herself, but she also needs to pee. Fuck beer.

The bathroom is nicer than ones at most bars, which probably came from the benefit of the music venue. It's a little dim inside, but the lights are yellow-white and not the wildly dark blues, greens, and violets in the main portion of the house. The moment she's in the stall, she whips out her phone to send a frantic text to Finn. He's going to go on about how he told her so, but she doesn't care much in the moment. She really should have listened to her best friend.

 _Where are you?_ She knows he'll be somewhere in Chelsea at this time of night. He and Poe have a favorite sports bar they like to go to with the rest of the dev team to get pleasantly drunk and annoyingly worked up over soccer. For an aerospace manufacturing company, it seems a little strange that getting hired seems to require a _love_ of sports.

_Smithfield. It's a Saturday—is that really a question?_

She maps it—a twenty-minute walk, but the F will be running for another few hours. She could get the fuck out of here. _Might swing by, I'll keep you posted_.

He texts back a question mark, but she doesn't answer—can't answer, not right now. She can tell him when she sees him, it's not like her date is all that interested in her anyway.

She fusses with her hair in the mirror, already sick of having it down. She hates how it gets in her face and won't _ever_ stay out of her eyes. Impractical. It's a real wonder how she hasn't lopped it all off yet.

Ben is as distant as before when she returns, even hardly seems to notice she'd left. It takes a lot of strength not to bolt past their table and head for the door, but she sits down with a little less grace than before. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

The band is good. She likes the band. They've got an arrangement of brass instruments and strings, playing some mish-mash mix up of ska and big band. It's the only redeemable factor of this night. She chugs the last of her beer, thankful she paid for it at the bar.

He looks about to say something but she steamrolls over it. "Listen, Ben, I don't think this is working out." It feels like she's stabbing _herself_ in the chest. "We had a good run with the other stuff, but this…we don't quite fit." She stands and his face betrays no emotions. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

A beat, and he nods. "Yeah."

Walking out of the bar, it feels like her heels are skewering every last shred of hope she had. Whatever. The chilly autumn air hits her and it's whatever, he's just another dead end. Like all of them thus far. She can't say she's surprised, not when they all amount to nothing every time.

The F finds her on the Avenue of the Americas and she hurries the few blocks to West 25th, a huge weight dissolving as she pulls open the door to the bar. She finds Finn easily and wedges herself between him and Niamh, the only other girl intern in their department. She and the small blonde mouse exchange friendly smiles before Rey turns all of her attention to Finn.

"I should have listened."

"What's our girl done _now?_ " Poe is to Finn's left, leaning on the table to see around. He's got one eyebrow cocked and a tall stout in his right hand.

A long sigh and she lets herself start to fracture. "I was sort of seeing Solo for a while and we went out tonight and just…he's really not interested."

"Even _I_ could have told you that." Jerry from across the table, works in fuel technology. He's good people. "He's always making moony eyes at Hux."

The table recoils at the name. There is a collective hatred for the chief propulsion engineer. Everyone likes rockets; no one likes Hux.

"Really Rey, we all thought you had better taste than _that_."

"Hey, at least _I_ am not making cute eyes at _Satan_."

That gets a laugh and she finds herself chuckling along. She likes this crowd. They're fun and full of warmth, all smiles at the peak of the evening. Someone orders her a pint and she stammers out a thank you, not knowing many of them here all that well, surprised an unfamiliar face would do something so nice for _her_.

One of the teams on the television above scores and half the table cheers—not like animals, but like enthusiastic parents at a little league game. She's smiling again. Why had she sacrificed bonding with her coworkers for sleeping around with an executive? That was a stupid fucking decision if she ever made one.

"Do you guys do this every Saturday?"

"Not every, but most," Finn says, picking around a leftover entrée. "You feeling better?"

"A lot, yeah. Everyone's so friendly."

"We're a good bunch, you know? And we've only been trying to get you to come out with us for a _month._ But you'll be free to now, won't you?"

She takes a drink of her beer, new warmth in her chest. " _Absolutely_."

When the night winds down, she says goodbye and begins the long journey home with Niamh who happens to live a few neighborhoods away from her. It bothers her that she didn't know, never asked. Niamh is short and a little mousy, but she has a grin too big for her small face and wears clothes with shorter hems and more style than Rey ever will in her life. She likes Niamh; sad they haven't spoken too much yet.

"Don't let him drag you too far down," she says when they approach her apartment first. "Solo's always been a jerk; it's nothing you've done or haven't done."

"I know."

"Then stop acting like you don't." She grins and it's huge, catching the streetlamps. "Chin up. I'll see you on Monday!"

"Good night!"

The walk home isn't as hollow as she feared it could be, but a little piece of dread sticks with her until she's under her covers, sleep surrounding her every move. She's going to be fine. He was only another guy.

 

Monday morning was more tense than usual, the interns scattering and rushing about, another deadline pushed _way_ the fuck up past the point of unreasonable. The engineers they were working with today were equally annoyed and frustrated, dashing about like greyhounds in a race.

"Fuck Solo." She hears it out of more than one mouth. He's fucking mad and she agrees. _Fuck_ Benjamin Solo and the hell he's wrought upon Aerodynamics. She won't be surprised if they throw him to the hounds by the end of the day.

"We're not even his fucking _department_ ," she hisses at Finn over the crackle of a welding torch.

" _Clearly_ no one is reining him in."

Then, finally, at two in the morning, it stops. Rey is exhausted and she tosses her gloves onto her workbench like they're made of fire ants. Everything is sore and she's not going to make it back to her apartment. She knows Software has a lounge somewhere on their floor and she's determined to call it home for a night.

"I'm not too far uptown," Finn says when he sees the conflict rushing across her face. "I have a couch too."

"Is it comfortable?"

"More comfortable than the bricks upstairs."

He also lives close to the 2, making her way home in the morning a lot easier.

The work rush continues on for a week and she has a hard time getting to her classes and back, panicking over whichever place she isn't. By Friday night, they've finished the horrible project that feels almost cobbled together, more slapdash than precise. Thank god the chemistry department isn't around to witness their careless work habits—they'd all have heart attacks.

And on Friday night, her black nightmare is stalking through their lab, long dark coat flowing around his calves. He looks enraged and the younger team members all back up, not wanting to catch his eye or risk getting fired. In the month they slept together, she forgot how mercilessly intimidating he tended to be, how _cruel_ his eyes usually seemed. This reminder is unpleasant.

"It's passable," he says with a cold tone before sweeping away and vanishing up the stairs.

"We're not fired," one of the devs sighs in relief.

He didn't even pass her a glance. Her suspicions are confirmed and it stings, it stings so badly.

Her ruthless fury dissipates into a dejected fog and she gathers up her books and materials, wishing Finn a good night as she slips on her coat. At last she can go home and sleep uninterrupted with fears of intellectual inadequacy.

But _he's_ outside the building doors, hands in his pockets, looking out onto the street. It's busy as it should be on a late Friday night. She stiffens and makes a concentrated effort to get the _fuck_ away from this man.

"Rey."

And now she's a statue full of anger. She manages to turn halfway, not looking at him directly. "What do you want?"

He doesn't flinch, not once.

"To apologize for being a jerk."

She thinks of how he's dragged them through hell, and then she thinks of her own hurt. "Yeah, well, you're a week too late, Solo."

He chuckles, his voice humorless. "In trying not to fuck things up, I royally fucked things up and am in no place to ask for a second chance. Have a good night, Rey."

She watches him walk away with her heart thundering in her chest. She feels like she should run after him, shout, do something to make him turn back around, but instead she pivots on her heel and heads for home, more ready for sleep than anything else.

 

Saturday night she goes out with the gang to Smithfield and has a proper burger with a tall Irish beer, laughing and chatting with her new set of friends. But the whole night feels a little hollow, worse than last Saturday, and she can't explain where the feeling is coming from. Poe catches it first and head-butts her shoulder, trying to encourage her to laugh.

"No frowns here, sweet cheeks," he warns with a playful glint in his eye. She smiles and waves him off, plastering a fake cheeriness on her face that lasts all of a half hour. Then she's back on the train to mope central. It's been a cold long week without spending any of it in Ben's bed. A spike quietly lodges itself between her ribs. It was against the rules to develop feelings for a hookup and she committed a cardinal sin. Now if only it didn't hurt so badly.

They've got her laughing again by the time they all head out, the next event on the agenda another bar in the area that's hosting a drag night. She hasn't been to one in ages and the excitement of going is enough of a buzz for her to snap from that dreadful melancholia.

On the way, the party runs almost directly into another set of coworkers, both groups confused about the other. The newcomers are better dressed and Rey can see Phasma's platinum hair before she recognizes the rest of them. She has her arm linked with Solo's and Rey suddenly very much regrets being anywhere near the front of the group. Finn goes rigid beside her.

She avoids eye contact and walks around them, her group parting like the Red Sea around the higher ups. She holds back all emotions for another two blocks and then cracks. She hates being weak, she hates that this is the only thing that makes her weak.

"You're worth more than him, c'mon." Poe has an arm around her and she nods, knowing he's right but aching so badly regardless. She deserves so much more than him.

 

Wednesday morning she's called into the office of the Ginger Witch himself. She's never been to this part of the building, barely having time to venture further than the third floor. Hux has grease on his face and a snarl building on his lips, but he seems to calm a little with her presence. She has no clue why rocketry would want a thing to do with her.

"Make up with him please," he says while tinkering with an engine piece. She never expected _Hux_ to be someone who worked with his hands. It had to be a job requirement. "He's the whiniest, moody bitch right now and we'd all appreciate not being subjected to his constant fits."

"What's in it for me?"

His eyebrows quirk and he seems more frustrated. "What's in it for you? I don't know, actually, I see no benefits to making nice with Solo. He's a pompous asshole with little to no self control."

"Then what part of that makes you think _I_ want to subject myself to it?"

"You wanted to before." He stops, setting down his work. "You saw benefits to him. Have they disappeared?"

"He's not interested."

Something in Hux snaps. "Would the two of you stop being so _stubborn_? Go!"

She is shooed from his office and forcefully pushed towards a menacing dark wood door. Hux has the audacity to knock _for_ her before storming back down the hall to his project. Rey's stomach has more knots than a properly rigged sailboat.

A crushingly hard _it's open_ calls from beyond the wood and her hand hesitates on the knob. She can just accept his apology and be on her way. She doesn't need to start anything again, put herself in a position to get hurt again.

He has his back to her when she walks in, standing in front of a large tacked up collage of blueprints that make up a new satellite design. There are more numbers and equations scrawled on the pages than she's ever seen down in her department. Somehow, she feels she forgot he has a doctorate in a really _fucking_ complex branch of physics. His suit jacket is on the back of his chair and his vest is tight on his waist. He's not hers, but he _is_ beautiful. She wants to forget how she knows his shoulders look under his clothes.

"I'm going to have a tough time getting this thing into orbit with the size she's packing and the rockets we have available. My estimates are coming in too high for us to—"

He turns then and freezes for a brief moment. "That was Hux's knock. You're not Hux."

"I'm not Hux."

He grits his teeth before folding his arms across his chest. He looks like he's in a bit of pain. "Well, what do you want?"

"Hux asked me to make up with you."

"Of course he did." Solo returns to his blueprints, scribbling something out in a white pencil. "You can go."

"You don't want to make up?"

"No, not particularly. I had something to say when you didn't want to listen, and now I have nothing at all. I would appreciate if you don't slam the door on your way out."

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

She sighs, another bout of self-hatred brimming to the top of her lungs. She should know not to trust gingers at this point. She takes the few steps back to the office's entrance, doing her best not to look over her shoulder.

"You're really not going to fight for me?"

She closes the small sliver of open door. "Fight for _you_?" Her temper clicks on like a gas stove, with a hiss and a shot of flames. "Fight for someone who only wants me for _sex?_ Who has _no_ interested in me whatsoever? Who won't even _look_ at me in a room full of other people?" She's rounded on him now, stalking like a lioness to his desk, bristling as she does. "Fight for the man who had another _woman_ on his arm last Saturday? I pick my battles wisely; this isn't one I'm going to fight."

"On second thought, you're right, from that perspective it sounds like a bad idea." He's calm and she wants to punch him in the jaw. "You _should_ , however, let me fight for _you_ , since I am disgustingly infatuated to the point where I couldn't figure out how to _talk_ to you the second I had you in a situation that could procure a romance."

"To the point where you're sleeping with other women."

"Hux wants to jump Phasma's bones so we buddy up when we go out, nothing more. She's too tall for my liking."

She's got a snarl on her face, hands on her hips, temper not quelled an inch. "I'm not convinced I should give you another shot, sorry."

"And you shouldn't. I'm not worth it. Just thought I'd give it a shot." His shoulders relax and he slumps a little. "You're talented, Rey, and I wish you the best of luck downstairs."

He is a broken man before her, even if his seams and cracks are barely showing. The slightest glimpse is enough to know.

Her heart aches again and the traitor makes her speak. "What would you do with a second chance, if I gave one?"

"Take you home, make dinner, hold your hand somewhere the thought of being in public won't grate on my brain whenever I want to tell you how much your eyes shine. Something quiet left only for dreams. I'll see you around the office."

He plunges back into his work.

Her heart fractures down the middle.

"I'm finishing up at six today."

He turns half to her. "Don't do this out of pity."

"It's not pity. I'll wait for you in the lobby."

 

His smile is beautiful, she decides, and she's surprised she's never seen it quite this big before. The trip to his apartment was quiet and awkward, but he came alive when his apartment door shut, a far different man standing before her than the one she saw two weeks ago. He cooks a gorgeous dinner and makes good on his promise to hold her hand like a grade school kid all through wine and dessert.

She's a blushing mess the second or third time he calls her beautiful and she can't help but reject his compliments. She's not pretty, she's just not, but he seems to see something she's missed in her reflection for the past twenty-three and a half years. Let him believe that, especially since he won't accept her compliments either.

They talk into the night and she remembers exactly why her horrible crush on him developed as quickly as it had. He's gorgeous, he's charismatic when he's comfortable, and…he looks at her like she'd hung every star in the sky on little silver strings. How did she come to believe he had no interested in her?

He doesn't kiss her, not once, and does the gentlemanly thing of offering to take the couch. They've shared a bed so many times that this all makes so little sense to her.

"I want to do right by you," he explains when she pushes. "I screwed up the first time and now I want to fix it."

She lets him stay on the couch by himself for a half hour before creeping out and making a concentrated effort to snuggle up to him in too small of a space. It doesn't work well and, in her pushy determination, she gets him to come back and lie beside her. They've never cuddled before and, oh, she's delighted that she fits up against him so perfectly. He's marvelous.

She doesn't deserve him.

* * *

 

They've been dating for two and a half months by the time Christmas rolls around. It's her favorite holiday and she finds herself stuck in the city away from her Grandfather for the first time in years. He's too deep into the Vietnamese wilderness for her to travel to him or him to get out and see her. It's a little painful to have to go without him this year, but in his place she has—

" _Ben!_ " She shrieks as she finds herself lifted from her desk, pencil pulling sloppily away from a complex diagram of an internal wing piece. Her boyfriend is merciless.

"I told you on Sunday: you're coming home with me tonight, we're having a party tomorrow, and then we're going to have _so_ _much sex_ on Christmas morning." He throws her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and puts her down in the small kitchen area of her apartment. "It's going to be amazing, wait until you see what I got you."

"I have _work_ to be doing—"

"I remember grad school, I know. But if you've got time to see Finn, you've got time to see me."

"But I'm not _dating_ Finn! Seeing Finn is a _much_ smaller time commitment!"

"Too bad, girl, I'm going to spoil you rotten and you _will_ like it."

He is such a cheesy mess around her. She loves it.

She spends almost the entire afternoon decorating his apartment. It's small, yes, but he exaggerates just _how_ small it is. She's living in a proper studio apartment shoebox—he has several _rooms_ , not to mention his kitchen is _enormous_. There isn't enough space for the two of them to live side by side, but there's enough for a gathering of friends.

He's allowed to do work (unlike her, as per his orders) and he's slumped at his desk in slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. "Can you check on the cake in the oven by the fridge?" He has two ovens. _Two ovens!_ How can he say this place is small!?

She gets down from her tinsel-covered perch to peek in at his concoction. The cake itself is white but the flavor is peppermint. He has a Yule log cooking in the other oven. Cookie dough is in three different wrapped containers in the fridge. If he baked this much all the time, she would put on an astronomical amount of weight.

"It looks fine."

"Did you use a toothpick?"

She fishes one out of the drawer by the stovetop. "It's sticking a little."

"Perfect." He's beside her then, hands on her hips as he gently moves her out of his way. The master baker sets both layers of his cake on the cooling racks atop the island and switches them out for a sheet of cookies.

"Where did you learn to bake like this?"

"My mom. She baked a lot when I was a kid, probably out of stress from dad." He closes the oven door and pecks her on the cheek. "You're sprucing this place up nicely, I love the little ornaments hanging on the lights."

"I like to overdo it a little."

He bends to really kiss her this time, the force of it making her stumble a little. "I don't think it's overdone."

"You're just buttering me up."

"Hmm, maybe." His hand slides up her shirt, cupping a breast over her bra. "Maybe I just like complimenting the beautiful woman in my kitchen."

"Where is she?"

He snorts and digs his fingers under the cup, the position awkward but arousing. "You'd think she'd notice when I'm playing with her tits, but alas. My Rey is clueless as ever."

Smiling, she runs a finger down his bare chest, biting her lip the way she knows he loves. "I can show you a few more ways in which I'm clueless."

"Oh, no." He draws away, striding back to his work. "We haven't the time. Those will be out in twelve minutes and I just have _so much work_." His grin is teasing and her cheeks feel hotter than they were a moment ago.

Back at her decorating, she hums quietly to herself. She likes this, their domestic dynamic. She could see herself growing very used to all the touching during mundane chores and cute banter. A brief thought flickers to permanent living arrangements, with them taking turns to make dinner, bickering about sports teams, kissing every morning when they wake up, wearing matching rings. Warmth slides up her shoulders and she gives the fantasy another few seconds before waving it away. It would be nice but she doesn't think she's one to settle down, not anytime soon, at least.

* * *

 

Valentine's Day isn't anything special. They both forget about it until it's almost nine and they're still at work, her bustling around with blueprints and him doing calculations with the rest of his team.

It's Finn who reminds her. "Aren't you and Solo going out tonight?"

She doesn't think he'll ever call him Ben. "No, it's a Monday. Why would we?"

"It's Valentine's Day. It's that thing couples do."

…Fuck. She didn't even _remember_ that existed. "Oh."

"You forgot."

"I forgot."

Quarter of an hour later and Ben is down in the lab without his suit jacket, vest covered in chalk, hair a mess, and a pencil caught between one of his huge ears. He looks more than panicked.

"Hey." He kisses her forehead in greeting and no one glances to sneer. They all know he's been courting her for months and secretly most of the employees in and around his department are grateful—she's lulled him into not being a huge pain in the ass all the time. "Please don't hate me, but I—"

"Forgot what day it is. I did too." She smiles up at him, curling her hands into his. "Get back to work, they're probably upset you left."

"They're probably taking a breather now that I've left. Our numbers are looking terrible right now."

"Then _go_ , sheesh, even less reason to be down here."

He kisses her forehead again before hurrying back to his frustrated team.

Finn has a look of utter revulsion on when she faces him. "He turns into a toothache around you, it's weird."

"It's weird because…?"

"Because Ben Solo's never been a nice guy and you manage to make him fall over his own feet and give all onlookers cavities."

"Sorry he's not always a huge jerk anymore?"

"It's just…weird."

 

They celebrate on that Friday, but it's less of a celebration and more of them lazing on the couch after work. Dinner and wine finished, she's sitting in his lap while he—of course—has a hand down her pants, his touch tender and a little teasing. Nothing is on the television this time, but she had been trying to read before he decided he couldn't keep his hands to himself. He never can.

"Where do you want to go tomorrow?" He asks, rubbing one finger back and forth against her clit.

"I told you, I'm perfectly fine with staying in."

"But I want to take you _out_. We should do something."

He's got his middle finger buried deep inside her now, angled perfectly that he's hitting that one highly-sensitive area and she moans, resting her head back against his chest. "Really, Ben, it's fine."

"It's _fine_?"

A shriller noise comes from her throat. "Yes, _fine!_ "

"Fine is no fun." His free hand travels from her thigh to under her loose t-shirt, playing lightly with a breast. "We both _missed_ Valentine's Day."

"It's not important."

"No?" He squeezes harder and moves a second finger to play at her entrance. "I think it's very important we express our _feelings_ for one another."

He does something evil with her nipple and she whines. "I think you're the devil, happy?"

"Not really." He bites at her ear, overloading her senses. She's going to fucking lose it soon if he doesn't knock it off.

"Ben, your fun here is going to last another few minutes before your hand gets soaking wet."

"In that case." He withdraws his hand and wipes his soiled fingers off on her bare stomach, making her squirm. With one graceful motion, he picks her up and carries her into his bedroom, giving her no time to react before he's got her all of her clothes off. First thing he does is lick her stomach clean and her eyes roll back into her skull.

"That's filthy."

He shrugs. "I like it dirty. I like _you_ dirty." Pressing a thumb close to—but not on—her clit, he smirks when she wriggles. "Tell me how you want it."

She's still not terribly comfortable with…bedroom talk. "Ben—"

"Tell me, Rey. How do you want my warm, wet mouth on your nice, tight pussy?" His thumb strokes up where her hip meets her thigh. "Do you want me to fuck you with my tongue? Or should I suck and lick your clit until you come around my fingers?"

Her face is hot and she buries it in her hands. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what, love? Can't deal with the suspense before I eat you out until dawn?" He's got a finger back inside her as he lies quite calmly on his stomach, unfazed by her embarrassment. "Or the suspense of _how many times_ I'm going to make you come tonight? Because I'm not stopping until you can't move."

When she doesn't respond, he leaves a great big hickey on the inside of her right thigh, making her moan and squirm.

"I can also brand you until you make a decision." Another one goes right next to the first. "Been a while since you've had to go places with the lingering redness of _me_ all over you. How does it feel, to know everyone in the office is aware that you're _mine_?" He kisses up her stomach, leaving a red blossom under her left breast. Then he's at her collarbone and she should have the common decency to push him away _before_ he sets about destroying her neck like a horny teenager, but she doesn't. She lets him have his way.

"I love all these little noises you make," he says quietly, stroking his sixth work of art on her skin. "I feel like if you moan loud enough, I'm going to come from knowing that it's _me_ you're moaning for."

"We can try it out."

"Tell me what to do."

She takes a deep breath, somehow nervous of being in bed with him. Their near-constant sexcapades have made her far better at making him feel amazing, but he's still far more experienced. And he's a god with his mouth, she has no idea how he does it.

"I want you to…" This is going to sound so weird, she knows it. "Fingerfuck me until I'm near the edge. And the…the what you did earlier was pretty hot."

"Licking your own fluids off you?"

"Yeah, that."

"Excellent choice." He moves down so his face is again level with her hips and eases two fingers in this time, knowing how wet she is, how much she can handle. "Can you imagine how hot it would be if we got one of those internal vibrators and fucked while you had it in? God, you'd get off at least twice in the first ten minutes."

"We haven't _fucked_ in months, Ben."

He chuckles and kisses her stomach on the skin that still feels wet and slippery and dirty. Arousal shoots down her spine. "You're right, we've been _making love_. That sounds too pure for what you've been doing with my cock."

She's easing into this filthy conversation. "And what have I been doing?"

"First, you got the fucking vibrating _cock ring_ and then I fucked you silly into three orgasms and you were so goddamn _tight_ I left a bite mark on your shoulder from trying not to scream." He's building up a nice steady rhythm and she can feel her chest begin to grow heavy. He gets a third finger in and she's not sure she can hear what he's saying anymore. "Then you spent an entire week sucking me off with that sweet little mouth of yours when you were on your period and I swear to _god_ I've never felt anything more amazing in my _life_." He dips his head to lavish her clit with pressure and flicks and sucking, frenzied off the memory.

"What was I doing?" Her voice is nothing but breathy gasps.

"I don't even _know_. Then next thing I know you've got me on all fours with one hand on my hip and the other on my balls and you peg me into the _best_ orgasm I've ever had." He says this all with his lips pressed against her and she can feel his voice in her hips.

With an arch of her back, she hits release for the first time this night, no doubt not the last. He's holding one of her hands when she gets back to her senses, the other smearing her own wetness all over her belly. He's filthy; he's fucking _filthy_ as he laps it away, nuzzling into her soft middle when he's finished.

"You should get out the strap-on again soon," he says as he's kissing down her hip. "Not tonight—this is all about you tonight—but soon. I fucking love it when you dominate me."

She laces her fingers in his hair and brings him up for a kiss way too sweet for their current positions. There's something in the way he's been looking at her all night that she can't get over. It builds butterflies in her stomach whenever she catches it, and she thinks she knows what it is, but she's a little afraid to admit it. "You're fucking perfect, Ben."

He presses into her neck to hide a smile she absolutely saw. "So are you, Sunshine."

For once, she doesn't hate the pet name. In fact, this time, she kind of loves it. Really loves it, the way it falls like gold from his tongue. The way he sees her as something gold, warm, and wonderful. She sighs, positive of it now. Positive she's starting to fall in love.

"You better get back down there before I tie you to the headboard and do everything but make you come."

His eyes are hungry for that—he _loves_ the idea of that—but he obeys. "Yes, ma'am."

Her fingers are back in his hair when his tongue meets her folds and she shivers. "That's my boy."

"I'm not a dog," he huffs, but his licks up and down are too good for him to be nothing special. "But I am yours."

Hers.

She likes how that sounds, what it means. Hers. Yes, she is certainly falling in love with him. And she's scared, scared to give him that much of herself, but excited. So excited to share it with him. But not…yet. It's only been a few months and she doesn't want to say anything, at least not until she knows how he feels.

She brings him up to kiss his soiled lips, rolling him over, kissing him silly for what feels like an eternity before letting him go back to his need to please. His eyes are so bright and she knows he's marvelous, beyond marvelous. She would be content to have him to herself until the sun burned out and time stopped, and for a good long while after that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwww this is too cute, even for me.
> 
> Not sure if I want to throw some background Stormpilot in there.... Thoughts?


	6. No Need to be Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half a year has flown by, but she's still packing some insecurities. It's a good thing he's the best thing that's happened to her.
> 
> Drabble rating: Explicit. Oooh boy.  
> Tie-Ins: (He's) Falling and (She's) Falling  
> Tags: Smut, filthy filthy smut, fluff, some drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd been in love before  
> But in my heart, I wanted more  
> Seems like all I really was doing  
> Was waiting for you

It’s their six-month anniversary and she’s a little nervous. This is the longest Rey has ever been in a relationship, and she has no clue how it’s still happening, how nothing has blown up in her face yet. But there he is, a room away, fussing about the perfection of dinner because it’s _her_ and because they’ve breezed through half a year with little to no major issues.

They opt to stay in since he doesn’t much like crowds when he’s in a romantic mood (which is more often than not, but she can’t complain—she likes when he can’t stop putting his hands all over her) and she’s bone-tired from all her cumulating projects. Her grad work is really starting to catch up with her.

He appears in the den, taking a moment away from his furious cooking. He’s got some kind of sauce on his cheek. “Not much longer now. And how are you doing, princess?”

“We’ve gone over this before.” She sets down her glass of wine and stands to rid the bright red tomato from face, wiping her thumb off with her mouth. “ _You_ can be a prince, but I’m the knight. Do I look like a princess to you?”

"You look like someone I want to give the world to, and I only do that for princesses.”

She blushes wildly and he dips to kiss her, his lips also flavored like tomatoes. “Yeah but I’m no princess.”

“You can be a fierce warrior princess, defending her consort from a horde of orcs while horseback. I don’t mind being the captive.”

“But you’d rather be _my_ captive.”

He smirks, holding the moon in his gaze. “Forever and always.”

He’s gotten so… _sweet_ these past few months, she thinks, watching him wander back into the kitchen, throwing her a disgustingly cute smile on the way. But only around her, and usually only when they were alone. He’s made some slipups at work, kissed her full on the mouth more than once in front of her coworkers, his coworkers, everyone who didn’t need to know just _how_ close they’d grown. Not that anyone had doubts with the way his behavior did a one-eighty, but still.

The first time she forgave him, as it coincided with the successful launch of a new satellite and the whole room burst into cheering when it cleared the atmosphere. He’d found her seconds before and kissed her so forcefully at the very back of the room she thought she might fall over. To most of everyone, it looked like they were hugging. But Poe saw. He winked at her and she took it as a sign that this was okay. Ben wasn’t being a dumbass anymore and she’d be safe. That, or Poe would kick his ass about it.

He can’t stop giving her those great big doe eyes though, that was something they needed to work on. She’d come up to his office with a set of instructions from Dr. Franklin and he’d just…stare at her dreamily for a few moments before collecting himself and snapping immediately to work. More than once she’d come up to deliver something to him and he’d have her half-undressed on his desk, stifling her moans with the fabric of his tie. Hux interrupted once. Rey got shoved under the desk with her shirt half-open while Ben looked like an utter wreck—hair unruly, lips swollen and red, cheeks flushed, erection very _clearly_ outlined against the fabric of his pants.

They need to stop fucking in the office. That has to end.

But first she needs to make it through this dinner without getting sappy or melancholy.

He calls her in after another ten minutes and she abandons her long calculations in favor of his company. They both dressed for the night even though there was nowhere to go. It doesn’t mean much in his case—he’s always in three-piece suits and Italian leather loafers. It means a lot in her case since she’s put on makeup and a dress that isn’t three sizes too large (unlike every sweater she owns).

“A toast,” he begins, raising his champagne flute, “to some of the better six months I’ve had.”

"Not the _best_?” she teases, clinking her glass with his.

“I had one _really_ good month during my rotation, but that’s the only thing beating it out.”

She laughs and makes a note of how his face seems to dissolve into a smile. He’s too damn good to her. He’s a beautiful, well-cultured, intelligent man and she’s a silly, young, okay-looking girl. It’s a marvel that he wants her as much as he does. It’s a marvel that he hasn’t gotten bored of her yet. God, she loves him so much.

Not that she’s told him. Not that he knows. Not that he loves her back.

The thought causes her to be a little distant through the meal, eating around her plate and half-listening to what he’s saying. A good time doesn’t necessarily mean the _best_ time, or the time to build the rest of a life. She hasn’t given the ‘rest of her life’ a lot of thought, but thinking about it sans him makes everything feel a little bleaker.

Her plate vanishes from in front of her and there’s a kiss on her cheek. “You seem distracted.”

“Sorry. I’m…Finn and I are working on another project and the deadline is coming up soon. I’m a little worried about it.” This is possibly the biggest lie she’s ever told him. “Do you mind if I go call him a minute?”

“Go right ahead.”

 She locks both doors into the bathroom and plops herself on the toilet lid, a little ramble of terror in her fingers. The number she dials isn’t Finn’s, but Finn picks up.

“What are you doing calling? Isn’t this your big night?”

“What are you doing picking up _Poe’s phone?_ ” she asks with the same level of incredulity.

“He’s…” Finn’s voice grows a little distance as he moves away from the receiver. “What the hell _are_ you doing?…He’s trying to prep the wind tunnel, but he’s…messing with the settings, a lot.”

“Can you put him on? I need to talk to him about something.”

It takes a few minutes but Poe, everyone’s knight in shining armor, comes through. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“You’ve known Ben for ages, right?”

“Since we were like, four, why?”

Rey’s voice grows small. “I’m not sure if…do you think he…” This is harder than she imagined it would be. “Loves me?” Then, the words start to spill. “Because I just, I don’t know him nearly as well, I’ve never seen him with other girls, and he doesn’t voice a lot of things, and I really, _really_ love him, and I just—”

“Girl, slow _down_. Take a breather.” Poe laughs— _laughs!_ —and she can hear him swear softly. “I’ll let you in on a secret about Ben. He’s a serial dater, can never hold a girl down for more than a month or two before she gets bored or he gets bored. Then he’s on to the next one. He broke the pattern once when he was in college, dated a girl for two years and was always tripping over himself. _Always_.”

She’s trying to force the choking feeling from her throat. “What happened?”

“He loved her to pieces and she didn’t feel as strongly so they ended it. He was crushed for _ages_ but he got back together. They still talk, though. Good friends, but they’ve both moved on.”

“Poe, how is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“It _would_ if you didn’t interrupt my point. Ben was maybe half as affectionate with Greta as he is with you, and he _loved_ that girl. Now, what do you think that means?”

The name Greta is familiar but she waves it away. “He’s always been a sappy sack of shit.”

Poe chuckles. “That too. Trust me, Rey, anyone outside who looks at the pair of you sees a lovesick man and his cute, less-affectionate lady. I mean, Christ, I’m surprised I’m discussing this with _you_ and not _him_.”

“I just…”

“Have the esteem issue, I know. Just…tell him how you feel. Do it tonight—it’s a special night, totally acceptable. See how he reacts. If he’s been with you this long, I doubt he’s stringing you on. That’s not the game he likes to play when he’s playing.”

“Did his thing with Greta mess him up into that?”

“He was always indifferent about commitment, but that really threw the wrench. Now get off the phone and go do special anniversary things!”

“Thanks, Poe.”

"Anything for you, doll.”

She slips her phone back into her dress pocket and checks out her face in the mirror for the inevitable smeared mascara. It doesn’t look _that_ bad, but her nose is a little red. She hopes she can pass it off for stress crying when she gets back to the kitchen.

“Welcome back,” Ben says when she takes her seat across from him at the island. He’s got the lights off and there are more candles lit than before. His smile is somewhere between cherubic and devilish.

“Sorry about that.”

“Hey.” He takes her hands in his, holding them above the countertop. “Work and school come first, the rest of this is play.”

These words clash with Poe’s and she finds herself raising an eyebrow with a frown. “I’m just _play_?”

“You’re the girlfriend. You come before work unless there’s a launch. Then the launch comes before breathing.”

“So we throw a satellite into orbit and our chief physicist dies from auto-asphyxiation?”

He ducks his head to laugh. “You’ve caught me in a sticky sentence. It’s hard to concentrate when you pout with those big eyes. Let me start over. You look beautiful tonight.”

“You already said that.”

“Did I? Maybe we don’t need the wine.”

Dessert is tartufo and he admits these were not his own creation. She doesn’t care—she knows _exactly_ which shop he got the desserts in, and he knows how much she loves the place. The thought was there in big bold letters.

She makes it halfway through the movie he picked before falling asleep on his shoulder, exhausted and still battling the inner turmoil of does he or doesn’t he? She hasn’t the nerve to ask.

“I’m _awake_ ,” she whines when he picks her up and carries her to the bathroom.

“Take your makeup off and come to bed.”

“I thought leaving it on was one of your kinks?”

“It is, but I know you hate waking up with it all over your face.” He kisses the back of her neck, hands ghosting her hips.

She has a surprise.

She bought new lingerie for this occasion, her first departure from simple cotton and girly patterns. It was red, lacy, and would be absolutely visible if this dress did not have long sleeves and a high collar. She strips the paint from her face before stripping the dress, leaving it in a pool on the bathroom floor—he’d appreciate that in the morning.

It’s red lace with a neckpiece that gives her breasts a nice emphasized window. Her nipples are entirely visible and the chill in the bathroom makes her regret this choice a little. But he’ll love it, she hopes. He’s never seen her in anything remotely sexy before.

He wasn’t expecting her to emerge bare. He’s in bed with a fucking _book_ in his hands as if they were going to just go to _sleep_. His jaw drops a little before she sees the breath in his chest catch.

"I thought you were tired,” is all he manages to stumble out.

“I thought you’d be masturbating in anticipation.”

He gives her another once-over and wets his lips, his eyes enormous. “I can _start_ if you want, don’t need to be told twice.”

“Is this really that much of a turn-on?”

“After you’ve worn nothing but plain bras and granny panties for the past six months? Yes.” He pushes down the covers and she holds back a laugh. “ _Very_ arousing. Now get over here, your nipples look like they want to have some fun.”

She’s a little hesitant as she crosses the room, letting him take the initiative settling her over his hips. He’s already pretty hard and she blushes. “Were you really planning on not having sex tonight?”

“I was planning on giving you something _before_ having sex to lead _up_ to the sex, but you looked dead tired and—oh _God,_ Rey—it was okay if you just wanted to sleep.” He lets out a small groan when she rocks against him in the precisely correct manner. Ben drags one hand from her hips to her breast, pulling the lace down to rub circles over her nipple until it puckers.

Rey whines a little at the sensation. “What were you going to give me?”

“If I can find the willpower to get you off me, I’ll show you.”

She dips her lips to his ear, nibbling before whispering one of the dirty things he relishes but she frequently denies, something he’s wanted for a long while. “I’ll let you come all over my stomach.”

He throws her off him onto the other side of the bed. “ _Done_.”

She’s laughing by the time he comes back with a small black box. “It’s for both of us,” he says when he hands it to her. “I mentioned something about one earlier and haven’t been able to stop thinking about how amazing it’ll feel for you.”

She raises an eyebrow and shifts her position. Pure lace underwear are uncomfortable when soaking wet. Under the lid is…

"You did _not_ spend that much money on me.”

“On _us_.” He touches under her chin and meets her lips, all affection and excitement. “Happy half-year.”

She takes the object from the box. It’s a vibrator, but it goes _inside_ her during sex. It’s black, smooth, and his newest torture device for her. “You’re something else, Ben Solo.”

“I try.”

“So what are you waiting for?” She settles down into the sheets, slipping her fingers under the waistband of her underwear. She exaggerates a moan for his sake, watching the hunger grow in his eyes. “Do I have to do _all_ the work?”

He sits back on his haunches, his grin growing two times bigger. “I don’t mind watching.”

She slides one of her own fingers inside herself, spreading her knees. “No?”

“Not at all. I’ve got an excellent view.”

She continues for another minute or so before he breaks his self-restraint, yanking her panties down and kissing up her thighs to her wet pussy, sliding two fingers inside as he lavishes her stomach and hips. She comes around his fingers after he sets to work on her clit, her first orgasm leaving her a little hazy and ready for round two. How did she manage to snag such a careful, satisfying lover?

“Does it feel okay?” he asks when he presses the toy inside her. They’re both entirely unclothed now and he’s been stroking himself into a fervor for the past two or three minutes. She reached to help at first but he swatted her away, telling her to lie back and watch. She feels a little cheated that she can’t watch him make himself come tonight.

“Yeah. But the anticipation is killing me.”

He rolls his eyes and presses against her entrance, making her toes curl. “Ready?”

“Just turn it the fuck on already.”

Oh.

 _Oh_.

 _Both_ ends of this thing vibrate and she can feel it on her clit and further inside, buzzing pleasantly. He thrusts into her and his face contorts, mouth opens, and he blinks in a stupor. “Holy _fuck_.”

Her voice has already climbed into a whine. “Good?”

“Oh my fucking _god._ ” He thrusts harder and a moan claws itself from his chest. “You know how I last for like—like—”

“Ages?”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head and presses down close to her, their chests brushing. “I don’t—don’t think I’m gonna make it that long.”

She’s not either. He kisses her neck and rears, his pace quicker than before. And she loses it. She fucking loses it less than ten minutes into penetration. She doesn’t fucking _come_ from penetration. He kisses her hard through the whole orgasm, moaning her name into her neck, dragging his lips across her collarbone, her jaw.

Rey drags her nails across his back when she’s a little more coherent. “This was fucking worth it.”

“So fucking worth it.”

He knocks hard into her and she sees stars, bits and pieces of her turning to jello, her entire lower body humming in satisfaction. Brilliant man, he was such a brilliant, _brilliant_ man. He could have whatever parts of her he wanted.

He pulls out a moment to readjust her hips and she watches the curve of his shoulders, the broadness of his chest. How red his cheeks get when he’s this aroused, that beautiful, toned stomach of his. He runs a hand through his soaked hair and she says something stupid.

“I think I’m in love with you, Ben.”

A look of complete surprise crosses his face before he’s wracked and shaking with a particularly powerful orgasm, spilling all over her stomach. He groans so, so loudly, falling to support himself on his hands, his forehead pressed to her chest.

His breath is ragged and he finds his way back onto his knees, bracing himself against her legs. “I’ve made a mess.”

“You should clean it up.”

He does, and she’s not sure she’s ever been so turned on by something so filthy. So of course she peaks again, his tongue pleasant and smooth on her belly, the toy still sending pulsing sensations up her spine. He kisses her with his soiled mouth and she moans into him, sated and full. He’s gentle when he removes the vibrator, turning it off before pulling the blankets up around their shoulders.

"I think that’s enough for tonight.”         

She nods, still half in a land of clouds. “If you make me come again, I don’t think I’ll move at all tomorrow.”

“I _know_ I’m not getting out of bed for most of tomorrow.”

Looking up at him, she gets lost at the glint in his eyes. He’s smiling at her, their faces level on the pillows, but the smile is unlike most of his normal ones. It’s dreamy, almost lost.

“Did you mean that, Sunshine?”

“Mean what?”

He hesitates. It’s unlike him. “Do you…are you in love with me?”

“Since around Valentine’s Day, yeah.”

“A month later.” He chuckles, and she doesn’t quite understand. “It was New Years for me. You were just…so gorgeous in every way and it made sense.”

"What made sense?” She knows but she wants to hear it in his voice.

“Falling in love with you.” He kisses her forehead, her cheeks, rolls her onto her back so he can kiss everything in sight. She laughs and gently brings him back to her by the hair. He sees this as an excuse to bite her lip before slipping his tongue into her mouth. “I’m so happy you feel the same way.”

“With everything you’ve given me, all you’ve been, it’s hard not to fall in love with you.”

“It’s like breathing.”

She nods, pushing him back down so she can curl into his side. He’s the cuddler, but she wants nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms. “Exactly like breathing.”

“You should _definitely_ make me come all over _my_ stomach on our one year.”

Her face heats with the image of watching his orgasm from above, making filthy the glorious lines of his soft but muscled belly. Too dirty a thought for this cute moment. “ _Ben!_ ”

"What? Just planning ahead.”

She laughs and kisses his chest. “We can do that before breakfast.”

“And after breakfast?”

“Let’s sleep first, okay?”

But she can’t sleep. She’s grinning too much. Sex made her exhausted but she’s still riding the high of his confession. And he hers, both of them shifting around to kiss every few minutes, giddy and giggling like small children. Poe was right—he loves her _so_ much it was ridiculous she didn’t see. And she loves him so much it was silly of him to think otherwise. Perfectly oblivious but perfect together. They’d get some rest eventually.    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gross. Disgustingly fluffy but pretty hot? Gross.
> 
> Now you all know I'm always a slut for Beatles songs


	7. Shark Tank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's pining. They're understandably nervous; his last breakup didn't end well.
> 
> Drabble rating: G or T. Pretty mild.  
> Tags: Backstory drabble, pining

“She’s really something else.”

That would be Phasma beside him, in her practical flats and modest, graceful dress. It is rare to see her in makeup and Ben lets his eye glance over her features a second longer than normal. He stiffens.

"The new intern? She’s…interesting.”

"The girl is the reason we’ve got a rough prototype of the _Cephalus-II_ , she’s a bit more than _interesting_.” Phasma shifts her weight, uneasy in the crowd.

She’s the head of the B-Team, the second branch of lower-ranking propulsion engineers. Phasma is good at conducting large groups of people and getting others to listen to her. She’s not good in a room full of peers, and she’s even less equipped to handle even-footed social situations. She hates parties.

“Just because she caught a mistake regarding _wing_ weight—”

“You’re also quick to degrade her. That’s proof she’s something else.”

He bites his tongue, unable to counter that. He’s only highly critical of people he likes, normal social conventions be damned. Ben has grown especially fond of Rey, the fresh-faced engineering intern with the massive smile and hidden demons. He knows smiles like those, wears them himself much of the time. She’s a wonder made of dark eyes and high cheeks.

“Your silence is hurting your cause.”

“I think she’s got potential, what’s your point?”

Phasma raises a tall platinum eyebrow and grins with her thin lips. They’re a bubble pink tonight, an exceptional contrast to her steel interior. “Stop looking at her.”

“I’m _not_ —”

“You’re moving around the room to follow after her.”

“I’m moving around the room to avoid _Hux_.”

“Fair.” She catches sight of the ginger across the grand hall, rubbing elbows with some government official or another. “Is that your mother?”

“I’m also avoiding her, yes.”

“I always liked Leia. Sweet woman.”

“Can’t stop trying to get me to work for her.”

Phasma snorts. “It’s a _far_ better job, Ben. Year after year you turn down NASA and we all seethe in hatred.”

“But then what? Then I’m the new face on the old team with a family member sitting right at the top. If that doesn’t look like unfair appointment, I don’t know what does.”

“Your uncle’s the chief operator of our Fight Dynamics department.”

“Notice how I’m not working under him and I was a blind hire?”

 She rolls her eyes and glances back to Leia. “You should at _least_ talk to your mother.”

"When I’m ready.” It’s still too early, still too soon. “When she’s ready, too.”

Phasma drops the topic and stands with him. He returns his gaze to Rey, laughing her big, mad laugh, on the other side of the room, guarded on either side by Poe and Finn, she their new partner in crime. She’s wearing a dress tonight and the first sight of it made his heart leap. Her wardrobe was very specific: clunky Timberlands, old worn sneakers, acid-splashed grease-stained jeans, decent slacks, snap-up shirts (his personal favorite for unsavory reasons), and ratty tank tops. She was never a lady; always had to be one of the guys.

And that’s why she was something else.

“It’s okay, you know, if you like her,” Phasma says softly, sipping at her scotch. “You’re allowed to like her.”

“She’s twenty-three, lively, and friendly. She’s got enough admirers; doesn’t need the pervy old physicist on the fourteenth floor to add another to the pile.”

“You’re not _pervy_ ,” Phasma laughs. He raises an eyebrow but she plows forward. “All right, you _can_ be, but not in that way. You’re thirty—”

“Thirty-one.”

“Close enough. Your mom married a man more than ten years her senior.”

“And look how _that_ turned out.”

“That’s because of who your parents are, not their ages.” She puts her hand on his shoulder and he curses himself when he leans into her touch. “You want everything to be perfect. Neat, organized. Exactly to your calculations. Life doesn’t work like that.”

“Says the woman who _blows things up_ for a living.”

“Hey, I’m not an explosives technician. If anything blows up, we’ve done something _very wrong_.” Phasma’s looking at Rey now, and from the corner of his eye, he sees a ghost of something cross her face before it disappears into oblivion. “Would she make you happy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know her well enough.”

“Would you make _her_ happy?”

“I doubt she’d want me to, but I’d try.”

“You’ve already had a sour interaction?”

“Whom _haven’t_ I had a bad start with? Name someone.”

“Poe.”

“ _Aside_ from people who were too young to remember meeting me?”

She goes quiet. “And did everyone abandon you?”

“…No.”

“Stop pining, start doing.”

She’s right. He sighs because she’s always right. “Greta…”

“It’s been long enough.”

She squeezes his hand and he looks into her face for the first time since the conversation started. She’s as beautiful as she was all those years ago, but…she doesn’t make his pulse erratic and his breath short the way Rey does. He’s finally moved on.

“Go get her before Dameron sweeps her off her feet like he does with _every_ pretty thing that moves.”

* * *

Rey is called to the rocketry labs one day in mid-October. They primarily work off-site in a huge controlled space, but they had some of the testing facilities in the basement levels to themselves. She’s not sure she’s ever met anyone in this division before.

But she recognizes the woman with the pert smile and glowing eyes. Her hair is pure blonde and she’s fairer than most—taller than most, too. She’s frightening, but could be scarier if she weren’t putting on friendly airs.

“Ambrose said I was wanted down here by a—”

“Phasma. Greta Phasma. That would be me.” Her smile is feline. “I hope you weren’t doing anything too imperative. We just wanted to get a good look at you.”

We. Her eyes drift to Phasma’s companion. Red hair, perpetual frown—they’ve met. She knows him. Everyone knows Hux. “Pardon me?”

“Our darling idiot is growing up and I’m afraid we’re rather protective of his stupid, pretty little head.”

Rey is thoroughly confused. She makes no move to hide it. “I don’t follow.”

Hux speaks now. “Ben doesn’t sleep with people he likes, but he likes you.”

“Think of this like meeting the older siblings who will give you hell for breaking their baby brother’s heart. Though you don’t seem like the heartbreaker type.”

“He seems to have a thing for those.” Hux paces slowly behind Phasma, stopping to lean on the desk she’s perched atop. “Perpetual masochist.”

“You don’t know the _half_ of it.”

They both smile like they’ve told a dirty, secret joke. She’s getting more uncomfortable by the second.

“I don’t know about you,” Phasma starts, throwing her head over her shoulder, “but I like her. Levelheaded, smart—the quick sort of smart that eludes Ben. She’s—”

“Grounded.”

“That’s the word I wanted.” Phasma turns back to Rey, her smile made of shark teeth. “You’ll be good for our boy. We like you.”

“Tell us if he starts acting like a prick to you. And she—”

“I’ll give him a good cuff around the ears. He listens to me.”

“I think we’ve scared the poor girl enough for one day. We’ll go for drinks next time.”

“Forgive us for being overprotective. The last time Ben dated, he didn’t come back to himself for a year and a half. Be good to him.”

Rey nods, dazed from the confrontation with sharks. She hurries as quickly away as possible the second she’s dismissed, needing to talk all this over with Poe.

 

Phasma watches her go with a small hope in her fingers. She looked ready to fight, which was good—Ben needed someone who wouldn’t lie down when he got worked up.

"How long do you think she’ll last?” Hux asks as he sits beside her on the desk’s top.

“I think she’s got a shot. A real shot. She reminds me of me when I first met Ben.”

“Then you _do_ think she’ll make him crash again?”

“No, she’s a bit broken on the inside too; she can give him the same back. She’ll be able to love him the way I couldn’t.”

“I’ll put down fifty bucks on them breaking up in the next six months.”

“I’ll put a hundred against you.”

 

Ultimately, Hux lost more money than he intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're like his big sister and brother, only one's physically smaller and they're both pretty mean to his face.
> 
> I'm going to laugh myself into an early grave because the next two chapters are just going to be kinky as all fuck. Get ready for submissive Solo.


	8. Dominatrix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She promised to be one, but not in the ways he ever intended. He moaned her name anyway.
> 
> Drabble rating: E  
> Tie-Ins: No Need to Be Alone  
> Tags: Pegging, Dom!Rey, sex toys, a whole lot of kinky bullshit, apparently Ben's sucked dick before

It's past the point of mid-March by the time she puts two sharks together and she's downright furious. She's not even sure why—is only aware that her anger is seeping down into her bones. She is minding her business at one of the drafting tables and it clicks and her pencil tip snaps, flying off at a mean trajectory. Then, next thing she knows, she's storming her way up to his office with a roll of plans under her arm to ease suspicion.

He should be alone—it's around three in the afternoon. He likes to take this hour to clear his head of business and fill it back up with numbers, tossing away his jacket to roll up his shirtsleeves and coat his black hair with a fine dusting of chalk. She loves when he's pensive, how his nose scrunches up, how he forgets she's in the room, mumbling equations and measurements under his breath. He's a physicist to the core and his office is a temple.

A temple she's breaking the hell into.

"You dated _Phasma?_ " It's not really a question and he jumps, the pencil behind his ear almost falling to the floor. Poe, beside him, almost loses his grip on a set of blueprints.

"Hello to you too, Sunshine. That news is older than the Precambrian." He collects himself with ease and turns to Poe. " _You_."

Poe shrugs, at a bit of a loss. "It slipped!"

"Ben, she's Satan. She and Hux are _Satan_."

"They weren't always so cutthroat and just because I used to be a cock munch doesn't mean—"

"Is that a euphemism for your inevitable 'experimenting' phase in college?"

To Rey's surprise, Ben turns bright red. Wait, did he actually…?

"It was _one time_ at a party in undergrad. It was a dare. I was plastered. Okay? Christ, what the fuck _else_ have you told her?"

Poe hasn't said a word about this, not one. She'd have to apologize for this extortion later. "No, not okay, not nearly enough details. Whose dick did you suck?"

His blush is thicker than tomato soup and he hides his eyes with a hand. "I will take that to my _grave_."

She turns to Poe.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," Poe says lamely. He looks like he wants to tell, but doesn't. "If Ben wants you to know, that's up to him."

"Not until hell thaws." He's pissed now. He's _really_ pissed. "Is there something _else_ you wanted, or was your only intent to chide me about what happened with Greta eight years ago?"

Nope, that was it. "I'll be back up at seven?"

"Fine. You're lucky I already bought ingredients for dinner."

 

And it was a fine dinner.

They have a routine. He cooks—he always cooks, she's a shit chef—and she washes everything not fit for the dishwasher. Most nights he retreats to do work, leaving her in peace to clean up and get back to her own assignments and reports. Tonight, though, he has other plans. He's trying to get her to _dance_ , an act that Rey will never, ever partake in while in the presence of another human being. Not him, not granddad, not anyone at her possible future wedding. No one.

He likes dancing and she never would have pegged him as the type.

" _Rey_." He's got his hands on her hips, trying to drag her away from the soapy mess in which she's elbow-deep. "Half a song, please, that's all I ask."

"Weren't you furious with me a few hours ago?"

"That was a few hours ago. Things change." His breath is hot on her neck and she curses the god that gave him to her. "I'll make it worth your while."

"You can suck a mean dick, right Solo?"

He becomes stone and swallows audibly. "I don't know where you're going with this."

She turns her head to him, careful to have that one super dirty smile ready, batting her eyes like an innocent virgin on her wedding night. "In exchange for a dance, I'm riding your ass tonight."

He's never looked so horrified and turned on at the same time. He wets his lips, eyes big. "Tonight?"

"Yup. One dance and I'll give you an hour to figure yourself out, tiger." She's flush against him now and doesn't miss the chance to give his ass a quick squeeze. "Think you'll be ready for me?"

"I sure fucking hope so."

 

He's not allowed to keep a single article of clothing on these nights. She can have whatever she wants, but he can't. And as she's stripping him of his shirt, she has to restrain her self-governing fingers from running down his pecs, his stomach, from slipping down the line of hair that starts at his navel, traveling down under his waistband—

She takes a slow breath and calms the thoughts. A night where they were on equal footing, she'd have her hands all over the ridges and dips of his smooth muscles, have her face buried in his neck, his stomach, his hair. But they're not on equal footing—she has the higher ground—and she pushes him down onto his knees when he's fully disrobed. She's already harnessed and his face is close to the midnight-blue dildo strapped on her hips.

"How badly do you want to please me?" She cards her fingers through his hair, one of the last gentle touches she'll show until they're finished.

"More than I want to give you all the stars in the galaxy."

"That's a lot of stars."

"Your pleasure is paramount to me."

"Prove it with your mouth."

It's not how she imagines a blowjob feels to him, but the tug of his mouth pulls on the internal portion of the dildo and she moans _so slightly_. The feeling is nothing compared to watching his head bob, seeing his enthusiasm to please leak into this act. That's by far the bigger turn-on. He jerks a hand up the length of the silicone, the other reaching up for her hips, to bury her farther inside his mouth.

"Am I big enough for you, Ben?"

"The perfect size," he says when he pulls back, stroking small circles around her inner thighs.

She's gotten better at this dirty talk thing. She tugs on his hair until he's looking her in the face, his lips a little swollen. "Do you think you can take all of me in your tight little ass?"

"Only if you go slowly."

"On the bed, down on your hands."

He obliges without a comment, rising to his full height. She sort of wishes she were wearing great tall heels tonight, something to let her contend with his tallness, but she also enjoys being smaller and having complete control over this huge beast of a man. His wild animal eyes are tamed only for her.

She starts him with a small lubed-up vibrator with a flared base. His response is a deep, heady groan, and part of her wants to sit on the floor and make him play with himself instead of fucking him into next week, but she knows how sweet the wine is, how perfect he looks from above when he's lost his thoughts to pleasure.

"How's that?" she asks, cupping him with the hand not on his hips. Each dance of her fingers causes another breathy sound.

" _Too small_."

"Don't be a size queen, Ben."

"I need _you,_ and I need you _deeper_ ," he whines. It's too high for his voice, it's doing things to her head.

"What will you do for me if I let you have what you want?" She moves one hand to slip a little under her harness, stroking herself.

"Anything."

" _Anything_?" She removes the vibrator and he makes a noise into the pillows. He's unhappy with his lack of power. "Will be a good boy and come for me?"

" _Yes_."

"All over your pretty little stomach?"

"On whatever you want, anything. _Anything_."

"You can't touch me or yourself, that's the rule. Roll over."

His face and neck are so flushed, eyes dark and deep and full of arousal. Not that she needed to look anywhere but his swollen cock to know just _how_ aroused. This man had control of others, he tore down metaphorical walls. And she controlled him.

The headiness of the power trip mixes nicely with the groan she gets when she nudges into him, everything slick and tight. The push on the inner part of the toy is a wonderful addition. She inches further slowly, stopping whenever his legs spasm against her shoulders, whenever his fingers curl tightly into the sheets. She's never been in his position before—she gives a brief thought to wonder if it hurts more than it feels good. Oh, but the next moan says it _has_ to feel good, because next thing she knows, he's a sobbing mess.

"There, _there,_ aim _there_."

She backs up and drives it home. " _Here_?"

" _God_."

"How _good_ does it feel?" she asks, adjusting her hands so one can stroke him. Fuck, he's so hot in her palm.

His voice is shaky. " _Fantastic_."

"Better than being inside me?"

"Fuck, Rey, don't make me compare the two."

"Better than tying me up?"

His head rolls back at the combination of the thought and the way she keeps playing with his tip. He says something, but it's not coherent. His brain isn't working; his face says he's effectively turning into jelly and haze. Her name is thick and hot on his tongue. The tongue she so badly wants against her clit, but not tonight. In the morning she'll have him lavish her rotten with that warm, wet mouth.

Stimulated beyond the point of pleasure, Ben rakes his hands through his hair before groaning his release, spilling all over his abdomen. His throat is exposed and she breaks her own rules to bite it, not caring that she's getting herself all dirty in the process. She kisses him hard on the mouth as he rides out the rest of his orgasm, lips falling away with an exhausted moan. He's thoroughly spent.

She retreats the second it ends, taking all the toys with her to clean before returning to sleep. In the bathroom, she catches her reflection with his mess sticky on her skin. That kink is starting to rub off on her, the possessiveness of seeing _him_ on her body like this, knowing she's marked. She's _his_. She fingers herself the rest of the way there on that high, having already been wetter than the sea for the whole act.

Ben is out cold on _her_ side when she returns to bed. Typical. She slides in by the windows, the orange city glow eating up her shoulders. He's freaking _enormous_ and hard to cuddle from behind and she tries to compensate by tucking one arm under his and the other under her pillow. Maybe she can get a leg around his hips for good measure.

"What are you, a koala?"

His voice rattles deep in her ribs. "It is incredibly hard to be your big spoon when I'm seven inches shorter than you."

"Feels nice, though." He takes her hand and kisses the inside of her palm, his lips a mere flutter on her skin. "And I love you dearly for trying."

She huffs. "You love me dearly anyway."

He chuckles and it brings warmth to her cheeks. "That I do."

"Go back to sleep, you're making my cold, dominating exterior melt."

"Not until you say it back." His tone is teasing, but she can hear the small plea. He hungers for those words, yearns daily until she satisfies his quota. It's almost as though she has to quell his disbelief that she could possibly feel the same way.

"I love you best when you're moaning under me," she says into the skin of his neck, relishing the goosebumps that climb up his back. "Or maybe I love you best when your head is buried between my thighs, I can't decide."

"Christ, Rey. When did you become the dirty-mind of this unholy union?"

"When you pulled out the first toy and proceeded to do nothing but make me come for the next two hours." He hums and she nuzzles into his back, pressing a kiss between his shoulders. "You've ruined me, Ben. Ruined me into falling in love. How guilty do you feel?"

"So guilty, I'm going to repeat that first-toy-feeling in the morning."

They're both asleep soon on their sides, but she's dreaming of him on top of her, eyes wild and hungry, muscled arms caging her shoulders, lips hot on her neck. She loved to top him, but his dominant side made her burn hotter than the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe submissive isn't the right word. Maybe it is though?
> 
> Let's see that dominant side next time!
> 
> Holy moly, this is my most viewed thing on here. And hello stealth bookmarkers! No clue we had that as a feature! All of your comments are seriously making my day! Seriously. I'm thrilled to bits!


	9. Comfort Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn't always the best when dealing with his problems. In most cases, he just boxes them up. She doesn't like that.
> 
> Drabble rating: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is short and sweet. The companion to Dominatrix (which is hot and long, not short and sweet) will be up before or on Sunday!

He can't sleep.

Nothing was wrong. There was no last minute work he'd forgotten, no fighting with his lover in the room over, no imminent commitments for which he was unprepared—nothing. Some nights he just couldn't sleep.

He wouldn't call it insomnia; happened too infrequently, never lasted the whole night, was never fully exhausted unable to fall asleep. It was like those long nights before going back to school after a summer away, exciting but nerve wracking, staving off dreams. Like that, only nothing exciting's happening.

So he finds himself in the den, a ratty shirt thrown over black boxers, a blanket on his back like a fleece tortoise shell. He's watching old reruns of Thundercats, reaching for a childhood that's long since disappeared. He thinks he's being overly nostalgic, a bowl of sugary cereal in his hands like he's six and excited as hell for Saturday morning cartoons. Nevermind it's 3am, nevermind it's a Sunday.

He also thinks he's being quiet out here in his gloom, the main bedroom door all the way across the apartment through the kitchen. His bed is closest to that one and he doesn't think that the sound will carry well through the bathroom. His princess emerges, though, her sleep shorts askew on her hips, his great huge duvet up around her shoulders. She looks exhausted.

Eyes glazed over with sleep, she makes a nest on the sofa beside him, looking like a giant white and blue cloud. "Again?" Her voice is soft, only half there.

"This is one of my favorite episodes."

"It's the second time this week it's happened."

He reaches for the remote, muting the ambient sounds of the television. "Was it too loud?"

"No." She shakes her head, waking up a little. "Your side of the bed was cold."

Ben says nothing as he gives her a once over. She looks dead freezing and incredibly out of it.

"You can tell me about things that are bothering you, you know. That's the whole point of friends."

"We're a little different than friends."

"The whole point of dating. Whatever. Quit being facetious. Something's bugging you."

He won't meet her eye. "Nothing's bugging me."

"Ben Solo you lying sack of shit."

It's the truth, though—or he thinks it is. Wants to believe there's nothing eating away at him in the dark nights. He's set on not saying a word, of not thinking a word, until her hands are wrapping around his right arm and she's nuzzling into his side. "I…" God dammit, he can't deny her many things she asks. "You've never met my father, and it's probably for the best."

"Wasn't he a war hero?"

"Nothing but a bomber pilot who kept walking out on his family." Oh, yes, there is it. There's the lump in his stomach. "My mom called last Thursday. He's gone missing again."

She sits up, grogginess leaving like a tide. " _Missing?_ "

"He disappeared a lot when I was growing up. Sometimes it was to bars, sometimes…I don't know. He'd be gone for weeks and I'd have to sit there helpless, watching my mother try not to fracture for my sake. He did some unsavory odd jobs. I wouldn't be surprised if he's run off back to it now."

Her face drops and he hates that he's said anything at all. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was nothing I wanted to worry you about. Nothing I thought that would last this long. He hasn't left in a smoke for years."

"And you think telling me more than a week after it's happened is going to make me worry _less?_ " She sits up and takes his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "You don't have to fight every dragon by yourself. You _can't_ fight every dragon by yourself."

"It's not your job to fight my battles for me."

"If I _did_ my job the way I'm supposed to, you know where I wouldn't be? Here. I'd have rejected your advances, let the feelings fizzle out, and go back to my daily routine without breaking workplace etiquette and endangering my internship." She pushes his hair away from his face and kisses his brow. "If I didn't make a blunder of all that, you'd be alone at three-something in the morning eating _Lucky Charms_ while watching shittily-animated kids cartoons from the 80s that—Christ, Ben, do you only eat the _marshmallows?_ "

"Do people actually eat the other part?"

" _Yes!_ " She sounds appalled, like he'd told her he secretly likes the taste of glue.

He smiles for the first time since he woke. "You're a loser for liking the worst part of the cereal."

"Sometimes you're such a _teenager_. I am so much younger than you and you make me feel like a senior, that shouldn't be allowed."

"Love you too, _sweetheart_."

The words snap her from her mirth and she's back to burying herself into his side, her arms like iron wrapped around him. "Please don't hide things from me because you think you're protecting me from you. I can handle it; it takes a lot to scare me off."

He relaxes and sighs. "I know it does."

"Then just _tell_ me things, dammit. I hate seeing you like this."

With a gentle tug, he brings her face close, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "You're better than anything I deserve, you know that?"

"No, I'm not. We watch shitty Brazilian telenovelas without subtitles and dub them over because we can't _speak Portuguese_ , we wring each other's necks during playoffs because we apparently can't root for the same team, your mother thinks I'm great but my granddad thinks you're a _huge_ pain in the ass, and we love each other all the same. We're exactly what we deserve."

"You always pick the worst teams though."

"See? _See?_ This is _exactly_ why you slept on the couch for _two weeks!_ "

"We still had sex after the super bowl."

"Because I had four beers and took pity on your team's sad, _sad_ loss."

He kisses her again, all negative thoughts long forgotten. The lightness of her laugh always managed to melt them away. His grin is beyond stupid. "Do you want to go have sex now?"

"It's almost four in the morning."

"Okay. Then do you want to kiss for a while and _then_ have sex?"

"This is the most seductive you've ever been. Really, Ben, I applaud you."

He picks her up and she gives a mock yelp, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Or you can just ride my face and we'll call it even."

"That's _not_ even."

"Whatever you want, then. I don't make the rules."

 

His bowl of cereal goes forgotten until many, many hours later, when a bed-headed Rey goes looking for the blanket she lost to the couch. She shakes her head with a smile, bringing the bowl into the kitchen with a raw, crooked tenderness to her gait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You best believe they have amazing comfort sex, just not in this drabble. Picture it, I know you want to.
> 
> Rey is a damn heathen, no one likes the 'cereal' part of lucky charms. NO ONE!


	10. Dominator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He swears he's better at this when his mind isn't preoccupied with worry.
> 
> Rating: E  
> Tags: Porn WITH plot, didn't see that coming DID you?, oral sex, lighter D/S relationship for now, vibrators, conflict?!  
> Tie-Ins: Dominatrix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said Sunday and I know I said mega-hot, but now it's Wednesday in the early morning and it's loaded with feels on top of the sex.

Contrary to what he'd originally told her, it starts at a dinner party where his mother is a guest. She realizes then that she _has_ met his mom before—or rather, knows who she is. They haven't spoken as mother-of-the-boyfriend and girlfriend, but she has interacted with General Organa on more than one occasion.

Figuring out that _Leia Organa_ was his mother, however, is another great story.

 

They are barely approaching a year of dating, with the second year of her internship a month underway. There are a few new faces in the engineering department, but she sticks mostly to Finn and jibes wildly with the older engineers. Poe still loves her, and she was safe from a lot of ridicule that came from traipsing around with another employee. Not all of it, however.

" _You're_ dating Solo?" one of the newbies asks incredulously after Ben stopped down to deliver her a forgotten jacket with his usual over-affectionate show.

Rey looks up from the code she's working on. "Yeah, so?"

"You cannot be that desperate, can you?"

" _Oi._ " Poe comes through swatting a furled magazine at the back of the intern's head. "Quit it, Jasper. People can barely put up with Ben when they're _paid_ to do it."

She had no clue _that_ is being insinuated. "Excuse me, but what the _hell_ do you think I'm using him for?"

Her question goes ignored. "It's pretty convenient that his girlfriend's an _engineer_ though, isn't it? Especially with who his mother is," the intern continues. From the look on Poe's face, she's sure he's going down on some hit list.

"No one in their right mind would use him to climb some ladder. One, he'd kill you. Two, he's a nightmare. Rey, tell Jasper your boyfriend's a nightmare."

"He likes to throw things when he's upset and spent three hours sulking when Barcelona won the Champion League. I am not looking forward to what he does during the Olympics. Also he was a massive jerk when I started here."

"Wait, I thought he rooted for Spain?"

"God, no, have you ever seen his room? Great big stupid zebra with a crown on the wall."

Poe frowns—he's not a fan of Juve—and turns his attention back to the intern. "Not another word about her being in it for the money or I'm kicking you the hell out, understand? It's not proper workplace conduct."

Rey follows when he walks off, trying carefully to comprehend his anger before asking. "Hey, Poe, one question."

"Yeah?"

A quick look over her shoulder says Jasper is not paying attention. "Who is Ben's mom?"

His eyes go wide. "How the _hell_ have you known him for a year and—come, my office, this isn't a light topic."

Poe's desk is crowded with models and figurines from all eras and constructions ranging as far back as Saturn I. Paper are scattered everywhere and the Blue Angels logo is printed on an old sun-worn banner behind his chair. Below the banner is a decently sized model of an F/A-18 Hornet and she wonders how she's never asked exactly what he did when he was on active service.

He beckons her to sit in the beat-up leather chair across from him. "Ben's family is a bit…separated. He doesn't speak to his father, his mother and uncle barely see each other, and he's always nagged to come home, which is why he hasn't gone home for Christmas since his second year of college."

"Why doesn't he speak to his dad?"

"Long story involving too many details I'm not privy to tell. His business. His old man is a bit of a weasel. But his mom wants to stay in touch. Offers him a job every other year."

"But he has a job."

"Yeah, and it's not near her." Poe fiddles with the mess in front of him, organizing his pens out of the way. "Ben's last name is Solo, but his mother's is Organa."

It rings a few bells.

"Organa. Related to _General_ Organa?"

"She _is_ General Organa."

Rey needs a moment, her chin falling into her hands. "His mother runs NASA."

"Not _quite_."

"But she's, she's—"

She was everything they looked up to in her classes. Strong, bold, and fearless with a heart of gold. His mother had been a key figure in the Air Force until she'd switched over to the space program.

"You really didn't know?"

Rey shakes her head. "He doesn't say much about his family."

"But _everybody_ knows who he is, what family he comes from."

She didn't.

So she bursts into his office over another petty thing with fire at her heels.

"Your mother is in charge of _NASA?_ "

For once he's seated at his desk, three huge monitors the only objects occupying the surface aside from a tall coffee and half of the sandwich not currently in his mouth.

He raises an eyebrow, mouth full of lettuce. "Not quite. And in my defense, I never actively kept this from you."

"Why aren't you working for her?"

"Because I don't want to. What's spurred this?"

She shuffles on her feet, knowing his temper will explode with her words. "One of the newbies accused me of dating you to get to her or something."

 _"What?_ "

"No, no, Ben, please, it's okay, don't—Poe and I handled it!—you are a _wall_ , stop trying to push past me!"

He gives a gruff growl, his hands clamped on her shoulders. He's so stupidly big that she's failing completely at holding him back.

"If you punch that intern, there will be a shitstorm. This isn't some medieval fairytale, I'm not a princess, you don't have to defend my honor."

"But—"

" _Ben._ " She goes up on her tiptoes to smooth down his hair, waiting until his eyes stop burning to let him go. "Please. If he does anything like that again, Poe is going to kick him out, okay? You storming down there isn't going to help anyone."

 

He shuts up, she shuts up, and she meets his mother knowing it's his mother for the first time without him. He's there at the dinner party, but not with her, his presence confirmed by the torturous vibrator shoved up her vagina. It was _supposed_ to be sexy, some sort of turn on, but she just feels like she's in hell. A nicely dressed, buzzing, sparkly hell that could go off at any minute.

Rey downs her second wine glass and continues to meander through the clusters of people. She had originally made the decision to follow Finn and Poe around, but she lost them both within the first half hour. Ben's occupied with more important faces and she is instead hovering at the elbow of Niamh, the small, blonde, somewhat quiet aeronautics intern who shared a desk with Damien. Niamh looks like a queen in silk and roses; Rey looks like someone put lipstick on a rat.

"You're going a little too fast," she hisses to Rey when a third glass finds her hand.

"This gala is going a little too slowly." She's too aware of the torture device in her underwear to have steady nerves tonight. So instead, she drinks. Not a perfect plan, but she could think up far worse solutions. "Why don't you mingle instead of babysit me?"

"I'm not _babysitting_ you."

"Are to. You could be off there talking to Damien or Thomas but instead you're here watching me drink. Just because Ben's gallivanting around doesn't mean I need a sitter."

Niamh snorts at the image before sipping at her wine. It's pink and far too fruity for Rey. "Your boyfriend's debut as a social butterfly is certainly one of the more unexpected outcomes of the evening."

And Ben hates it. Every smile she catches him wearing is faker than a Halloween wig, his eyes dull and glazed. He hates this sort of socialization but he's a born elbow-rubbing master. She locks eyes with him a moment over a bouquet of lilies and he gives her a 'thoroughly finished with it all' face. She can't help the giggle to follow.

"He'd rather gargle lead paint right now."

Rey and Niamh circle and dart in between conversations until she is where she ought to be—caught up with the software intern she always makes bedroom eyes at—and Rey is standing uncomfortably close to Hux. They're on okay terms; she thinks he can be an enormous ass, he thinks she's not _quite_ right for Ben. He dragged her into this little hushed group of big wigs and now she's stuck at his side listening to a dialogue she can barely comprehend.

"What the hell is this all about?" she whispers at him when she turns to snag a fourth glass.

"I'll tell you if you _slow down_. Have you eaten at all?"

"Don't feign concern for me."

"It's not feigning when it's genuine."

He has the hots for Phasma, if she remembers correctly, and Phasma is fond of Rey. Can't be mean to the romantic interest's morality pet. "Yes, I've eaten. No, I'm not drunk. Yes, I know drunk people say that, but I drink _you_ under the table most nights and I've only four glasses of _wine_ in two hours."

"They're discussing a new Shuttle-Derived Vehicle that would be a complete game-changer if it works the way it's supposed to. They think it comes from General Organa's team—has a few style elements she's known to favor—but it's ours."

"The _Chiron_ models."

Hux frowns and his brows knit together.

"Ben's been sleepless over it for months. I assume this is the 'baby' he keeps referring to, considering neither of us have a dog and he's not a middle-aged Ferrari owner."

"It'll be a Lambo, I think."

"If he buys an Aston at any time, I _will_ key it."

"I like you." Hux smirks, then, some of the tension leaving. "Yes, this would be his metaphorical child. He's to the point of getting it ready for preschool, if you wish to continue the parenting metaphor."

"I'm picturing him dressing up a rocket in tiny clothing while crying all over everything."

"I don't think you'd be far off."

She smiles, thrilled with this new image of a sniffling, hopeless dad-Ben. "So how have they not realized it's our design?"

"Ben and Leia have _very_ similar trademarks when they approve blueprints, not to mention they like rooting certain lines in ways that can be considered…unconventional."

Their quiet chatter is interrupted when a new face graces the group. The woman is small in stature but big in presence, carrying the room on her shoulders. "That would be my son's project, not mine."

With Ben a walking skyscraper, Rey didn't expect his mother to be so _short_.

"Pleasant as always to see you, General." There was Hux's slimy side, back to kiss hands and make nice. She wouldn't care if it weren't drawing attention to _her_ too.

"Armitage, I should have known you'd be hovering nearby." Christ, Hux has a _pretentious_ name. "I don't recognize the lady at your side."

"This is Rey, she's one of our interns studying at NYU."

She extends her hand to Ben's mother. "Pleasure to meet you."

And then it starts.

He's nowhere near her, but it starts, the buzzing. The horrible, horrible buzzing that nearly has her squirming on her feet. Rey's had too much wine for this.

"Rey has been a major help with the _Cephalus-II_ design. I think she may be a face to watch for in the coming years." Why is he plugging her? They're frenemies, he's not supposed to make her look good.

Leia's eyes spark to life and she realizes Hux is being a bitch. "I remember seeing those plans. Our team was rather amazed at the size of that satellite."

Conversation picks up after the slight interruption and Rey remains silent next to her evil companion, listening but never speaking. The stimulation on her clit rotates between unbearable and nonexistent, each new onslaught making it harder and harder not to gasp at the start. He wanted her aroused, fine, she'd _be_ aroused, but she'd also be livid.

Speakers move in and out and after half of her current glass, she finds a hand on her back. Leia has a shine to her gaze when she leads Rey off, her tone soft and controlled but regal. "You're Sir Kenobi's granddaughter, aren't you?"

"I am, ma'am."

"He's an old friend of my brother's. How is he doing?"

"Well. He's finishing up the fieldwork for his birds of paradise study before heading home to do more research. Last I heard he's found a wealth of new things he's excited to report about."

"And instead of pursuing his field, you're studying for another engineering degree."

Rey falters in step, uncomfortable with this new direction. "Yes. My grandfather's interests do not dictate my own."

"What I am getting at, before you go making that face—I had children, I _know_ that face—is that you have a good eye. You assisted in research on living things and now you work with machines. It's a gift to be able to look at the natural and mechanical worlds side by side and blend them as a painter would pigments." She smiles and Rey sees hints of Ben in his mother's eyes. "You've got enormous potential. I'd like to scout you now rather than wait for your graduation so you can be scooped up by a competitor."

Her heart skips a beat. She is four glasses of wine in and getting scouted by _NASA_. She looks like someone's put blush on a Chihuahua and stuffed it in a pillowcase and she's being asked if she'd like to _work for NASA_. The dream, the frantic, fleeting dream, is being passed to her on a red velvet cushion.

She's at a total loss for words.

"Just a thought, Rey. I'd hand you a business card, but I'm afraid I didn't take any with me. Is there a supervisor I could call to leave my information with?"

 _Call your son,_ she wants to say, _nine times out of ten I'm naked in his bed_. But she nods and stumbles out a name. "Dameron is my direct supervisor."

"Familiar names all around tonight. Expect to hear from me on Monday, and I'll give you a deadline for your decision."

Rey manages a weak parting word as General Organa disappears into the crowd. Social conventions be damned, she has to find Ben.

He looks spaced out by the time she finds him and he gratefully accepts her presence to excuse himself from something unearthly dull. His first reaction is to grin stupidly.

"So?"

"Turn it off, please, it's making me more nervous than anything."

His hand slips into his jacket pocket and the vibrations stop, allowing her to catch her breath. "Not a great idea?"

"Not when I'm spending the whole night on my feet around _Hux_."

"What did he do?"

"Oh, nothing, just introduced me to your mother."

Ben's face sinks. "My mother's here?"

"Yes."

"Does she know who you are?"

"She knows my _name_ , but not who I am in relation to _you_ , no."

"Good, we should keep it that way. Change of plans, I'm not ready to come clean to her yet."

"About _me?_ "

"About Greta. We've been on shaky ground since that, and you'll just be a fork in the socket, so to speak. Have to tread carefully around Mom. Do you want to get out of here? Because I really want to get out of here."

 

The night air is the right sort of crisp, a nice reprieve from the still-balmy September days. He hails a cab to spare her ankles and they ride back to his apartment in a comfortable silence, her head rested upon his shoulder. She breaks the silence when her feet are free of their sandals and she's seated at the island with a glass of water.

"Your mom offered me a job."

He almost drops the pitcher of tea. "A full time job?"

"For when I get my degree, yeah. Said she wanted a head start from competitors. Hux is a dick and mentioned _Cephalus_."

"I am going to _murder_ him one of these days. You'd have to pack up and move; Mom works at the Ames Research Center in California." He sighs and rests his forearms on the counter. "Do you want to talk about this now or in the morning?"

"I think I'd like to sleep on it."

"And are you ready to _go_ to bed, or can we continue with it being my turn?"

"No more vibrators tonight."

"You only get one request, are you sure that's what you want?"

"Can I change that to no gags?"

"Done." He rolls up his sleeves, jacket and vest already abandoned in the bedroom. "Apologies since this start isn't going to be great. The thought of my mother and you leaving me to a new state in the same evening is a real mood dampener."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

He starts with a hand in her panties and it is fine, leading her by the cotton waistband to the bedroom. First thing's first, she gets slammed into a wall. She always gets slammed into a wall, one hand behind her head, the other racing to find her breasts under her dress. His lips are crushing and she can feel nearly every inch of chest against hers. Quickly, he's encouraging her legs up around his hips and she is lifted into the air so their bodies are aligned. He's biting now and she's biting back, sucking hard on his bottom lip until she's reprimanded with a sharp squeeze on her ass. She's not in control—he is. This is _his_ game.

Another moment of teeth and tongues and she wriggles from him, fleeing to the other side of the room. Her lips are swollen and she shivers at the gaze his eyes hold, a mix of predatory cravings and carnal want. She's a rabbit, he's a fox, and the fox is graceful and cunning in his hunt.

She locks herself in the bathroom but she's not quick enough to get to the door that connects to the den and he's there, blocking her escape. Her grin is wild when she taunts him. "You're quick but I'm quicker."

With a leap, she bolts into the space between his side and the doorframe, barely clearing his grasp as she barrels through the room and out into the kitchen. She could scamper down the hallway and make him catch her in the stairwell, but that involves leaving the apartment. Instead, she makes to duck back into the bedroom and—

He pounces, careful to keep her from slamming her head into the floor. He bites her neck and she howls, trying in vain to kick him off. He's too heavy, the bastard.

"No marks, no _marks_!" she whines, attempting to shove his face away from her skin.

"Punishment."

"Punish me _differently_! I have a _meeting_ tomorrow!"

"You have makeup."

" _Benjamin!_ "

That's her angry tone.

He looks up for her angry tone and licks his lips, small guilt crossing his nose. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, with one of my mentors. I can't look unprofessional."

"Oh, in that case." He bites her ear and her world goes blank. It takes a moment to notice he's slung her over his shoulder and she's being carried away.

He tosses her unceremoniously onto the sheets and instructs her to lay motionless. Rey watches in anticipation as he strips her of her dress and undergarments until she's bare.

"Will you be good when I take you?"

She nods, too used to being gagged to communicate verbally. She's not a fan of gags—he is—and it's hard to remember her tongue when she's so vulnerable below him.

"If your voice is free, I expect you to _use_ it."

"Yes."

His hands are stroking up her arms, pulling her wrists over her head. "Yes _what?_ "

"Yes, Ben."

"Are you to address me without my name? Has it been so long that you need reminding?"

Fingers glide down her sides and she squirms. "No, Ben."

"Do you have any new hard limits to set before I start?"

"No double penetration, okay? That hurt like a motherfucker and I'm not ready to try again."

He falls from the slowly building scene, expression concerned. "Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

"You were practically in the throes of orgasm, I wasn't going to stop you right before you came."

"But that's the whole _point_ of these limits and words! You're _supposed_ to stop me!"

"I was okay to let you finish that one time and then tell you the next. It was fine, we just need to ease into it if you want to do it again, but not tonight. I need to be able to walk tomorrow."

He grumbles but continues his quest with his fingers, feeling her out until he's satisfied with some invisible tally he's keeping. With a fluid motion, he eases off the bed and frees himself of his clothes, taking a moment to stroke himself before rejoining her. Knees on either side of her ribs, up on his haunches, he has her lean up so her face is level with his cock.

Rey glances up. It's a good view of him, his stomach a flat muscular plane leading up to broad pronounced pectorals and hungry, hungry eyes. She takes him into her mouth and comes apart faster than he does, the power he's exuding above her somewhat torturous in its design. He's huge, he's fucking _huge_ in more ways than one and she's dwarfed by his size. And it was so fucking _hot_.

He begins to thrust into her mouth, far enough that she's starting to tear up, the choking sensation both pleasant and horrible. When she's about to tap his thigh to make him stop, he pulls back and drags her with him, flipping her so her face is in the pillows.

"Ready to get fucked until you can think straight, Sunshine?"

Her mouth is full of goose down and Egyptian cotton. "Yes, Ben."

He ties her wrists out of the way with delicate ribbons and arches her up on her knees, spreading her legs wide. Hands on her hips, he enters her fully with a sharp thrust, causing her to bite the pillows. She's not ready to take his size yet. She's accustomed to him by now, but he's still big and she's not wet enough.

Shifting a little, he goes slower until she's making nice, deep, heady moans into his bedding, her back arched and her hips open to meet him. As soon as it starts to get really good, he pulls all the way out and she whines in loss. She's tossed onto her back and he crowds her space, one hand gracing her cheek tenderly before the feral creature in his chest erupts again and his cock is between her breasts. He grips his base and runs his tip along her lips, thrusting in a hot frenzy when she opens her mouth to him. She can't touch him or herself and for that she's needy.

Apparently it's blowjob night because he loses himself in her mouth, hands on the wall over the bed, back bent, head dipped, and a growl low in his chest. She swallows but doesn't let him go until the aftershocks end and he's no longer a great huge bear hovering but an exhausted man.

"I screwed up," he says as he undoes her silk bindings. "I'm sorry, I should have asked first."

"I didn't give you a hard limit involving oral, it's fine."

"And I'm also sorry because I wanted to fuck you against the wall this time too, but I have zero self control, apparently. Got nervous."

She reaches up for him and he settles into the sheets beside her, wrapping the whole of him around her frame. "Nervous about what?"

"About what you said earlier." He's kissing her cheeks now, kissing them to oblivion. "About how my mother wants to take you on across the country. This is a bad topic right now. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I'd tell you otherwise."

He gives her a huffy look and detangles himself, sliding under the covers to—

"Ben, no, no, please don't start that. I wasn't close; you'll just make me antsy and unsatisfied."

His head emerges, his chest hovering over her lower abdomen, face carrying a mock look of displeasure. "Unsatisfied? Am I _that_ bad at eating you out? Why haven't you _said_ anything?"

"Unsatisfied because _you_ already came, have the refractory period of an _old man_ , and I'm craving plain old vanilla sex more than anything."

"We haven't had that in months." He kisses her stomach and returns to her side, curling her into his chest. "Can I do anything _else_ for you?"

"Yeah, get hard again."

He laughs into the crook of her neck, pulling her tighter. With a sigh, he grows still. "I know I have no right to tell you what to do with your life, but I'd be…devastated if you left."

"It wouldn't be forever—"

"But next thing I know our Skype calls grow shorter and shorter and you're off falling in love with some younger handsome guy who eats kale, surfs, and truly deserves you. And I'm stuck here without a tan, hating kale, and undeserving of your affection."

She wriggles around so she's level with his face. "Ben, do you honestly think I'm going to leave you for a guy who touts _kale_ as the next best thing?"

"I don't _know!_ I want to believe you never would!"

"You have my permission to come drag me home if that happens."

He nods before kissing her forehead. "Then you think you'll go through with it?"

"There's a lot of time between now and then. A lot to figure out. You could come with me—"

"No. This is my home. I'm sorry, but I won't budge on that. I belong here. You belong where you want."

"Perhaps I should meet your mother _as_ your mother and not as a future employer."

He snorts. "And what will _that_ help?"

"Maybe…" Rey trails off. She hasn't thought this far ahead. "Maybe she'll have a different offer, I don't know. I still want to meet your family."

"All in due time." He kisses her cheeks until she's grinning. "Rest. We'll talk in the morning."

She can't rest, not really. Her career clashes with her love and it leaves a heavy stone sinking into the depths of her guilty stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's got....maybe a year to decide if she leaves him. Probably a whole lot less...
> 
> Guys, this is not me writing angsty. This is me writing conflict. Angsty ends in death most of the time.


	11. Impacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though they're the ones dating, everyone around them seems to feel a little more together for the fact.
> 
> Rating: G  
> Tags: Character development, backstory, Poe-Ben Friend Power Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really, really character-driven chapter.  
> There's also the sliiightest mention of Phasma/Hux, so skip to the second section if that makes you want to burn things to the ground.

 For the first time in what feels like eons, Phasma can breathe. She lets her shoulders relax a little as a sigh escapes, the last eight years of tension and unease slipping away like consciousness into a deep sleep. No more tiptoeing around one of her best friends, no more awkward late nights and drinks sipped cautiously to prevent an incident.

It is all over for now and she is free.

She unlocks the door to her office slowly and pauses over the threshold for a beat. There is a large bouquet on her desk, long delicate stems sitting peacefully in a simple elegant vase. She spies a card tied to a daisy with chiffon ribbon and raises an eyebrow, already certain she knows the sender.

 _They’re dating_ , the card reads in a pointed spidery pen, _I have reservations at seven-thirty. Please don’t be late_.

There’s no signature, nor is there an address, but she knows both. She’s known both since she made that promise all those years ago.

A knock sounds on the hardwood of the open door and she turns to find one of the men in question, his dark locks fussy from a habit of fidgeting he never broke. His grin is teasing but it’s been years since it plucked at her heart.

“Now I know I can’t threaten you as well as you did my girlfriend,” Ben says, pushing himself away from the doorframe, “but I can ask you not to break him to pieces if you can help it.”

Her eyes narrow for a second and she wants to smack herself. Of course he knows. “What gave him away?”

Ben chuckles, striding into her space. “I’ve known you both twelve years. I’m insulted you think I don’t know my _best friend_ well enough to watch him spiral down after I agree to something stupid one night at a party.”

“That’s all we were? Something stupid?” She knows her words would sound harsh if not for the grins they both wore.

“Two years of idiocy and he’s been brooding ever since. You could have told him yes so much earlier, you know.”

“I didn’t think you’d take it well.”

“So what? I’d have pouted like a little bitch for a month or two then gotten over it. After that first year and a half I was okay. Shaky, but okay.”

"Sure didn’t seem it.”

“It’s been a while. But it’s good, too, that you waited. Better for him, I think.”

She nods and bites her lip. He has mellowed out since college, even since grad school. No longer the pompous, politically agitated asshole with a loud mouth and an inability to back down. He could still be cold, though, still crueler than the desert sun, but he mellowed.

“I think,” she starts, unsure of where she wants to go with this, what she wants him to know. “I think he’ll want to tell you himself.”

“Of course he will. He has an insatiable need to spill secrets that aren’t his own. Why do you think I never went to him when I needed advice?”

Phasma shrugs with a small smile. “Because his advice is worth horseshit.”

 

She arrives on time wearing nothing overly fancy. She prefers the simplicities in life and she knows he appreciates the plain grace with which she conducts herself. She’s spared him tonight by braving flats in the growing October chill.

“I’ve always loved this view,” Hux says to the window when she lets him place a hand over hers atop the table.

The dying sunlight turns his hair into orange-gold flames, whisked carefully away from blue eyes illuminated by the outside. He looks to her and grins, his expression soft, lacking the crispness of his normal demeanor. She wonders for a moment why it’s taken her so long to give him a chance.

* * *

 Life at the office has finally, _finally_ begun to calm down. After several years of putting up with Ben’s hasty dismissals and flighty moods, Poe watches him simmer into a mild temperament and is able to breathe again. Without the constant weight of being fired hanging over everyone’s heads, work becomes enjoyable.

It’s been ages since they were inseparable but Poe can still read him like a children’s picture book, all of Ben’s emotions displayed vividly on his sleeves. And he likes the reason it’s happened, too. Rey’s bright—one of his brightest interns in what feels like centuries—and she’s a perfect fit for the job of wild executive wrangler. Not that he’d ever say that to her face. Begrudgingly he’d admit that they look cute together, but he also won’t say that to _Ben’s_ face, for fear of the jealousy it would brew—both his and Poe’s own.

What can he say? He likes beautiful people.

Therefore the results of it all come as a surprise.

“Hey!” Rey’s voice crackles over the intercom, drawing attention away from a useless stack of DVDs.

“Hey yourself, buttercup. Need a ring in?”

“Yeah, but first I wanted to warn that I’ve brought a friend, sorry it’s a bit last minute.”

Poe’s fingers lay over the buzzer, not quite pressing enough. On one hand, he had wanted a simple night with her and Finn filled with Z-grade Hollywood flops and takeaway from the Indian place four blocks up. On another hand, Rey is close to the two other girls interning downstairs, both of whom are _very_ cute.

“More company, more fun, right?”

It’s odd, then, to see Ben hovering behind her instead of Harriet or Niamh, his dark eyes scanning in place of blue or green ones. His smile is sheepish and it looks misplaced on the otherwise self-assured planes of his face.

Ben forgoes a greeting. “You didn’t even tell me you moved.”

“I did, twice. You helped me figure out the logistics.”

“Did I?”

Poe rolls his eyes as the dark tower follows Rey into his apartment. He’s been like that since they were small—any sort of calculations pop up and Ben’s head disappears, floating in a dusty layer of clouds until he’s got the answer he wants.

“I really love this painting.” He’s standing in front of the Brera’s _Supper at Emmaus_ , one of Poe’s more religious Caravaggio prints. “Still think it’s too dark for you.”

“Not everything in my apartment can be a pop of color, and not everything in yours has to be monochrome.”

“My place is _not_ monochrome,” Ben scoffs, flashing Poe a brilliant smile. “I’ll have you know I have a total of three colors in my bedroom.”

“Oh yeah, and what are they? Black, grey, and darker grey?”

“White, slate, and azure.”

“At least your desk has to be black.”

“It’s a beautiful dark walnut, thanks for asking.”

“Hey boys!”

Rey’s voice cuts through the childish banter, her head sticking through the dining room archway. “Finn and I are going to eat all the food if you don’t come join soon. Also we picked a movie.”

He feigns angry disbelief. “You picked _my_ movie in _my_ house _without_ me?”

“Stop being a drama queen or your korma is mine.”

Poe hisses and follows after her; Ben’s laugh echoes behind.

The four of them squeeze onto Poe’s tiny couch, limbs all crushed and knees twisted uncomfortably. It’s okay, though. There’s something mutual they all share, and there’s an intimacy that never truly died between him and his childhood best friend. Ben’s grown up a lot since they last roomed together in college, but he’s still got part of a bright-eyed boy hiding behind his tired expressions and chalk-dusted clothes.

“I’m glad you came,” Poe says to Ben when the movie’s been over for hours, Finn already gone and Rey curled asleep on the yellow cushions. They’re sharing a drink across a Corian countertop, their glasses stained green.

“I’m glad she wants me around her friends.”

“I was your friend first, you know.”

“But you and she know each other in a different context, so it’s not the same.” Ben swirls the mint chocolate concoction. Poe knows he’s a little proud of his work. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss seeing you all the time, but there just hasn’t been an opportunity to. We move at different frequencies.”

 _It was the Navy_ , Poe thinks to himself. Ben didn’t speak to him for the rest of the semester after he enlisted. Which was impressive when they shared a room. The thought of someone close going where he couldn’t has never sat well with Ben.

"Then I’m doubly grateful to her.”

“Speaking of Rey, I should get her home.” He drains his glass smoothly, placing it delicately beside the sink. “She’s got a lot of things to finish in the morning.”

“She can stay on my couch if she likes, too. I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.”

Ben shoots him a look but it dissolves too quickly to menace. “No wooing my girlfriend, all right?”

“But _Ben_ —”

He’s grinning but his words are sharp. “No. I’ll drag you down to hell myself.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I’m already there.”

“Then you should join me for drinks Saturday night. I hear Satan makes a mean Bloody Mary.”

Poe waves at the door when a drowsy Rey is carried unceremoniously over his threshold, her frame curled easily into Ben’s arms. He holds her like her bones are eggshells and her skin is flower petals.

“Saturday, it’s a promise. Snafu, ten o’clock.”

It’s his kind of bar and Poe nods, knowing Ben too well. He’ll have to practice his pool shots before he shows up. “Should I bring a case of cigars for atmosphere?”

“I think any signed bat will be a better choice.”

As the door closes on an old friend and a new one, Poe has trouble repressing the small smile that inches its way onto his face. It’s been a long, long time since he saw Ben so happy, so _mellow_.

Rey might be one of the best things that happened to all of them.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Background! Hints at backstories! Things that are a little more than just smut! 
> 
> How do we feel about secondary pairings?


	12. Darling, You've Got to Let Me Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should she stay or should she go?
> 
> Rating: T  
> Tie-Ins: Dominator  
> Additional tags: side-eye phasma hux (??? why is that happening), character development, a consistent conflict is arising?, Ben breaks his office

"I figure I don't have to say that I know, because everyone knows, but have you made a decision?"

Rey accepts her Cosmo from Poe before sinking down into the white leather couch. The bar they're at is more like a lounge and she is slowly and comfortably drifting down into the cushions. "I don't know how I'm supposed to."

"It's easy. You either say yes, because you want it, or you say no, because you don't."

"But there are so many other factors going into it and you know that. There's Ben, there's New York, there's you and Finn and everyone else. There's finding a new place to live, keeping in touch with Granddad…it's _complicated_."

"Let's start with Ben. Why is he holding you back?"

"Oh, jeez dude, maybe because I love him? We've been dating for over a year, he treats me well, and leaving might break him."

"You'd be gone for a year or two and you could always take turns visiting."

"I'm broke."

"He's loaded, I doubt he'd mind flying his girlfriend home."

Rey sighs and tosses the lemon slice into the drink. "He's worried I'm going to fall for some blonde surfer type."

Poe snorts. "Of _course_ that would be his insecurity."

"He's on to something, though." Her voice grows soft. "I did undergrad at USC and I…I left a boyfriend there when I went to assist Granddad in Australia. Someone I wouldn't have, you know, broken up with had it not been a necessity."

He takes a long draw from his Jack and coke. "Ben doesn't know."

"There wasn't a point to telling him. Charlie and I had a falling out due to distance. But I couldn't guarantee him not contacting me if I'm back in the state."

"Don't…don't tell him about the ex. He'll flip."

"He'll do more than flip."

"Okay." Poe claps his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees. "Remove Ben from the equation. What's stopping you?"

Rey takes a moment to think about this. Poe and Finn, certainly, but not to the point where she'd stay for them. She loves her friends, but they'll still be here when she comes back. In terms of keeping together, they're not going anywhere.

"Nothing."

"So it's just Ben?"

She nods. It's just him.

"Do you want my opinion?"

"Even if I didn't, I know you'll tell me anyway."

"I think you should go. It's a fantastic opportunity. I've known Leia for years. Every time we send one of our kids out to her, they land incredible jobs and start great careers even if they don't stay with NASA. If you want to keep climbing the ladder, fuck Ben's wants, you have to think about what's best for you."

She swallows, fiddling with the glass between her fingers. "Just disregard all my feelings, all his feelings, and leave? Even if he won't wait for me?"

"He's one guy. He's my best friend; I'm allowed to say that. Ben's nothing special, Rey. Most people aren't. He treats you well, sure, but shouldn't anyone you're dating?"

"This is really jaded, even for you. Aren't you supposed to be protecting him, not telling me to slash his tires and egg his house?"

"You're my friend too. I have to give you the advice that's best for you, not play favorites because I've been dealing with his grumpy ass since I could walk." Poe smirks and finishes his drink. "Everyone can't win all the time."

* * *

 "Are you really still debating this?"

Finn's picking noodles out of Rey's Lo Mein and she swats at his hands with a serving spoon. "Cut it out! Yes, I am, it's a big decision. Did you pick a movie?"

"Yeah, I'm loading it right now."

Rey turns back to the bowl of cookie dough she's scraping onto sheets. They do movie nights by themselves every other Tuesday, with either a potluck dinner or takeout from somewhere close to Rey's apartment.

"How come you haven't told me what to do yet?"

"Because you know exactly what I'm going to say. I think you should ditch Solo and move forward. California sounds like fun and you could use the sun, you're way paler now than when you arrived."

"Being in a desert for several months will in fact give you a tan."

"And if you've even got a guy there waiting for you, what's stopping you?"

Rey's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to _kill_ Poe."

"It was said in confidence, don't blame him, I pestered."

"Charlie's not waiting, either. And if he were, who says I'd rather be with him than Ben?"

"Maybe the fact that you're still debating this." Finn's smile falters when Rey's face falls into a deep abyss. "Hey, I'm only trying to understand what you're thinking, you know? Why you haven't given Leia an answer yet."

"I want to say yes," she admits, her eyes inspecting her shoes. "It's more than I dreamed of as kid, being able to work for NASA. Send astronauts into space instead of satellites and pieces of space stations."

"Make the choice for you, or you'll be kicking yourself."

* * *

Phasma is the next one to ask, a whisky in her hand and Hux's arm draped carelessly on her shoulder. Rey's happy for them—really, she is, especially because they've decided to stop hiding. Hux isn't paying attention, though, his mind on a game of chess he's playing across the table with a coworker.

"It'll crush him." Phasma cradles her glass, composed as ever.

"I know."

"Not the way I crushed him, but it won't be good."

"I _know_."

"And he's already pretty much composed entirely of gorilla glue and masking tape—"

"Greta darling, please stop trying to scare the poor girl," Hux drawls, not looking up from the board.

Oh, Christ, she wishes she didn't know about their sex life, didn't recognize that tone. Why, fucking _why_ had she agreed to the four-way a month ago—

"Fine." Phasma drains her glass. "Cut to the chase, Ben is going to see this as being abandoned even if you talk on the phone twenty-four-seven the entire time. Is there a way to make him understand you're taking an opportunity for career reasons? Probably, but I wouldn't know what to do."

"Take him with you," Hux says, finally looking over at her. He still hasn't really warmed up to her.

"He doesn't want to leave New York."

"Then _talk_ to him, it sounds like you haven't."

"Because everyone else has told me that this is about _me_ , not him."

Phasma laughs. "That's because none of them were stuck with piecing him back together after he broke. That was mostly Armitage's job."

"And it _sucked_ ," Hux huffs.

"He went to some dangerous places, it wasn't pretty. If it happens again, at least Dameron will be around to help, but it won't be good. We want what's best for the both of you, but I'm sorry, Rey, our primary focus is Ben."

She hates the answer. "I guess that makes sense."

"Talk to him."

* * *

 Instead, she Skype calls his mother.

It's stupid, she knows, but Poe is encouraging and gets her through to General Organa. He doesn't leave the chair beside her for the whole ordeal.

Leia's features are a little scrambled from the signal, but her smile is warm. "Rey, hello! Have you made your decision?" Her eyes follow to Poe and an eyebrow rises slightly. "Or is this about something else?"

"It's a pre-decision," Rey says quickly, too nervous to want to waste time. "I have a dilemma, General, and I was hoping you might be able to answer a question or two in order to sort it."

"And it couldn't be done by email?"

"It's a talking conversation," Poe says. "I wouldn't be standing in if I didn't have to."

Leia frowns. "Is this about Ben? Is he not letting you out of a contract or something of the sort?"

The grimace spreads on Rey's face before she can rein it back. "Not…exactly. I…" She trails off. This really isn't how she wants to do the meet the parents. Doesn't think the words will budge.

"She's dating Ben."

Thanks Poe.

"For a little over a year," Rey adds, fingers busy with the hem of her shirt. "He's been scared to tell you for some reason I can't really get out of him—"

Leia's eyes narrow. "Greta."

"So I think I need to talk to you, first, before I make my decision, since he won't come with me and he's too nervous to let me go. What should I do?"

Leia turns to Poe. "Is he at work right now? I need to speak to my idiot son."

"He should be, but I don't think it's a good idea to—"

"There are a lot of bad ideas in this world. If I can't talk some sense into my own kid, no one can. I would, though, have custodial on standby and be ready to pay them triple."

The call cuts off and Rey feels every fear in the universe settle itself deeply into the pit her stomach.

Poe, usually a nice tan, is white as a sheet.

"We're going to die," she says calmly.

"I'll buy you a drink in hell."

The crash comes fifteen minutes later, booming from the floor below. Rey tenses, hoping the lock on the conference room door will hold, just in case the charging bull figures out where they're hiding.

Poe's phone blows up with texts from downstairs, questions streaming in about what the _fuck_ is happening. Rey gets three or four before an incoming call from Phasma, which she takes reluctantly.

"I don't think I've seen him this angry before," she says calmly. "Kind of intriguing in a horrifying way."

"I am so, so sorry. I'll pay damages—"

"Oh, no, Leia said she'd cover that. It's mostly her fault for engaging him."

"Are any windows broken?"

"No, but he's going to need three new computers. And replacement monitors—they're all shattered to pieces. Armitage says you shouldn't leave wherever you are anytime soon." There's a pause and her voice grows fainter. "I am _not_ telling you that, no, _sit your ass back down_. Sorry, I just _love_ babysitting. I'll call again when the coast is clear, okay?"

"Phasma, really, I'm so sorry—"

"I'd rather him do this at us than at you and we all know it was bound to happen."

The call clicks dead and Rey sits, staring down at her hands.

Poe sighs, tossing one of his shoes across the room. "Do we order takeout now, or?"

• • •

Ben disappears for a few days after his tantrum.

Rey gets a chance to breathe for a split second before the emails from Leia come in. General Organa instructs her to do what she wants to, and to not let Ben sway her mind. _He needs a good kick in the ass_ , one of the messages says.

Maybe he does, but she doesn't want to be the person to deliver him to reality.

Flowers show up first, a beautiful bouquet on her kitchen counter with a little notecard and an apology. Then another bouquet, and another, until she feels she's swimming in flowers. It gets ridiculous until he himself shows up with an even bigger arrangement than anything filling up the flat surfaces in her apartment.

"I'm sorry," he says meekly.

"I know."

"Can I come in?"

"Are you going to throw anything?"

His cheeks redden, ashamed. "No."

She steps from the doorway to allow him across the threshold. He searches in vain for somewhere to put the newest installment in gratuitous apologies and settles for the floor. Before she can say a word, he launches into a monologue.

"I apologize. I do, I really do, god, I am so sorry for pressuring you, I hadn't realized how bad it was, and then I kept doing it, and you went to talk to everyone else, apparently, including my mother. She likes you, by the way, but I really wish you'd met properly, or better, or formally—I don't know. I'm sorry you heard the results of that talk. Everyone did, it's all over our emails and there must be a thousand pictures of my office for more than the damage report. I hate that I keep being so selfish to you, it's awful behavior, childish, really, and you can make your own decisions without consulting me. If you want to go, you go, don't worry about me, I'm not—I'm not your life, you know? I mean, I want to be a part of it, but you can't do everything or not do everything because of me. God, hey, I love you, and you going away for a while won't change that. And I hope you won't want to leave me behind at the end of it, but if you do—"

"Ben." She puts her hands on his hips, watching him freeze. "Please stop word-vomiting all over my kitchen."

"Sorry."

"And stop apologizing."

He nods. Christ, he looks like he might cry. She's never seen him cry before and really doesn't want to make a habit of bringing him to tears.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He lays his hands over hers, more an attempt to ground himself than comfort her. "Anything you want, Sunshine."

"What did your mother say?"

Grimace. Grimace, frown, sigh. "She gave me a lecture about smothering and preventing you from excelling. She thinks you should go, that if you do, you'll only go further, get better offers. You've got a lot of talent, Rey, and I'll just hold you back."

"And you absolutely won't come?"

"I can't, okay? I can't go back there."

"Then I should be the one visiting for Christmas?"

Fuck, here come the waterworks. He's not a dignified crier. "You'll have the biggest fucking homecoming I can manage."

"Hey." She reaches up as he folds into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm not going for a few months."

"I know but it's still too soon."

"I'll call every night. Maybe you can visit once in a while too. I'll drive to meet you."

"You're signing a legal agreement about the calls, got it?"

"Don't fucking push it, Solo."

He lifts his head from her shoulder, pressing his face into her hair. "I'm going to miss you so much. More than you know."

"People do this all the time, you know. Separate for a while due to work."

"Yeah, look how that turned out for my parents."

…Oh.

That's…that's why he's so upset. "Ben…"

"I'm not my father. Whatever you need, I'll give you."

"I need you to be strong for me."

He squeezes her tightly and she rests her head against his quick-beating heart. "Like a fortress." The words rumble around his ribcage and she knows the seriousness they hold.

She hopes he can't hear her own tears, how they threaten to spill with the thickening of her throat. "I love you," she says softly into the material of his suit jacket.

"Oh, darling, do I ever know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad, sad, sad, sad!
> 
> ....did I just hint at a four-way? Is that kinky enough for its own drabble?
> 
> Second question: would it be helpful if I made a timeline?


	13. Phone Screens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're close but far apart. It's hard to tell who aches more when the nights get long.
> 
> Rating: M or E, you pick  
> Tie-Ins: Darling You've Got to Let Me Know  
> Additional tags: phone sex (???), plot, pining, kinda fluffy but in a heartbreak-y way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The working title for this installment was "Hotline Bling"

"How's the weather, Sunshine?"

It's been a month and a half since Rey's internship with NASA started. They negotiated it differently when she accepted the offer—she'd carry out the last year of her work for Coruscant Interstellar Technologies at NASA Ames, her degree work at NYU held in suspense until she returned in June. If it all went well, they would talk about hiring her on full time. The environment here is incredibly different and she hasn't decided if she prefers it more.

"It's _hot_ ," she complains, throwing herself on her tiny bed. Moving had been a headache in itself—she's subletting with maybe half her belongings still at her Brooklyn apartment—which is _also_ being sublet. "Exactly as remembered."

Ben laughs, his eyes glowing from the other side of their Skype call. "Maybe you should have stayed. At least _we_ get snow."

"I handled Los Angeles for four years and the Australian outback for one, I can do this."

"You'll be the only one with a tan come Christmas."

"I could bleach my hair too, just for good measure."

He sucks in a breath. "Maybe don't do that."

"What, don't think I'd make a good blonde?"

"If I wanted to date a California girl, I'd be dating a California girl—"

"I'm sort of in California right now—"

"But you're still Rey. You still hate kale, right? Or has that changed? Am I losing you already? God, I knew this would happen, it always starts with _kale_."

She laughs at his mock panic, loving the way his grin spreads across his face when she shakes her head. "Kale sucks."

"That's my girl."

 

Their talks are brief during the weekdays, scattered texts leading up to video calls never longer than a half hour. She's got twice the work now and he's launching himself into every project he can to forget about the fact that he won't come home to find her asleep in his bed.

"That's been hardest," he tells her one foggy October afternoon, "sleeping alone. Not even the lack of sex, just you. When are you coming home?"

"Third week of December." She's got her planner out in front of her, glancing through all the assignments and projects she has due in the next two months. "December 19, somewhere around there."

"You won't be back for Thanksgiving?"

"I can't justify flying twelve hours to spend maybe twenty-four at home."

"And you won't be back for our anniversary either."

That makes her chest ache. "No, I can't. We're doing a pre-launch that weekend. Have Phasma smash a cupcake in your face—it sounds like something I'd do."

"I think I'll stick to eating Bolognese in front of the television with an entire bottle of wine to myself."

"Only if you're watching _Die Hard_ , otherwise I'm going to judge you."

"What? No, Sunshine, _Die Hard_ is a _Christmas_ movie. I'm not watching it during the Halloween season, ruins the spirit."

"Fine, then your options are _Showgirls_ or _Harlem Nights_."

"You have the _worst_ taste in films."

"Blame Poe. Whatever you pick, though, you have to call me so we can start at the same time."

"I can't sit through another terrible Eddie Murphy movie, _Showgirls_ it is."

 

They talk less and less leading up to their two-year. She doesn't want to be reminded that she's going to be without him and he wants to remember even less. The day of, though, he calls while he's still making dinner, his tie half on and his kitchen a mess of cutting boards and vegetables.

"Hey Sunshine, I'd be cooking pescatore for you, but you're sort of not here to enjoy it."

"I'm flattered and now disappointed with my leftovers."

Ben frowns, settling his forearms onto the counter. "Christ, Rey, do something _nice_ for yourself tonight."

"My stove is _really_ finicky and I'm not going out to eat at a restaurant by myself. Maybe I'll order takeout."

He sighs loftily. "Your palate just can't be helped."

A meow sounds weakly from his end and Ben shoos something at his feet.

"Did…Ben, did you get a cat to replace me?"

"What? Fuck no; I'm cat-sitting for Hux. Lucky prick is off doing something _fun_ for the weekend." He disappears a moment and returns with an orange tabby in his arms. "Meet Millicent. She's a pretty, pretty princess who's spoiled beyond all reason." He nuzzles into the cat's fur as she purrs. "Aren't you, baby? Yes, yes you are. A spoiled piece of shit just like your daddy."

Rey giggles at his cooing. "How spoiled?"

"Oh, god, I was handed a list of feeding times, specific measurements of food, and what sorts of water she shouldn't drink at any cost. Tap water is unacceptable unless it's from a filter and I'm not about to run off and buy one."

"So you'll have a companion for our scheduled screening of _Showgirls_?"

"Aside from you? Maybe, she's prissy about sitting on my couch for too long, seems to think it's not to her standards." He lets the cat down and comes back to her smirking, picking up the phone so he can talk while working on his stew. "How are you making friends out there?"

"Not well, I guess?" Rey shuffles through her apartment, hanging up her sweater and kicking her rain boots off and into the closet. "The girls are pretty standoffish and the guys lack a lot of social ability."

"You sure they're not scared of you?"

"I keep fucking up; I'm hardly intimidating."

"But you're gorgeous, Rey. That makes you _pretty_ intimidating."

She blushes, looking away from her phone as she sets up the lights in her bedroom. "I'm not that pretty."

"Rey, come back. Look at me, please."

"Yeah?"

"You're beyond beautiful. If I didn't have you already and we were just meeting in some grad program, god, I'd be doing everything I could to get you to look at me. And I'm not saying that because I already have you or because I love you since both of those things cause bias. Just catching sight of you from the corner of my eye takes my breath away in the mornings."

"You need to shut the fuck up, Ben Solo," she warns through a thick layer of red on her cheeks.

"I love you so much, Sunshine."

 

She takes her phone to bed with her that night, tipsy and a little chilly under the light blankets. It's three hours ahead for him and he's already yawning, duvet pulled up around his shoulders.

"I miss kissing you," Ben says sleepily, hiding his face in goose down. "I thought the sex would be high on the list but no, it's the kissing."

"I thought you didn't even like kissing."

"Me too!" He chuckles, his smile huge. "I didn't like it much before you."

"I miss you in general."

"Well, obviously that too. But I mean like, things I didn't think would be so important are now so, _so_ important."

"You're a little drunk."

"So are you. We're even."

She hums, hugging a pillow tighter to her chest. "Let's spend a whole day in bed when I get home. No interruptions, just cuddling."

"Don't you hate cuddling?"

"I _thought_ I did, but apparently not. Oh, forgot to tell you, I think I'm doing Thanksgiving with your mother."

"She doesn't expect me to fly out, does she?"

"I don't think so. She's made it very clear she wants to get to know me."

He's quiet for a long time, so much so Rey thinks he's fallen asleep. "I'd like that," Ben says softly. "I'm glad she wants you to get to know the family more. She never wanted Greta around so this is a pleasant change."

"What happened between you two to cause that?"

"You want to talk about my last girlfriend on our two-year anniversary?"

"I want to talk about you."

"Fine, but in return you have to tell me about your last boyfriend."

Rey swallows thickly. It won't go well, but she's too curious and her judgment is too loose, so she nods. "I get to go first. Why didn't your parents like Phasma?"

"She's coarse. It stings like a _bitch_ to hear from your girlfriend's mouth that your parents keep side-eyeing her whenever she's around. Greta wasn't bad news, either. No drugs, no arrest record, straight As right through college—but she's blunt and reminds my mom of herself a little too much. Why'd you break up with your last boyfriend?"

"Distance," Rey admits sheepishly. "The relationship hadn't been as strong and there was a sixteen-hour time difference. Talking was hard and it wasn't as worth it to either of us to continue, I guess."

"Did you love him?"

"Whatever I felt for him wasn't even half as strong as what I feel for you." She knows he loved Phasma. It isn't even worth asking how much more he loves her. "Why did you start dating in the first place?"

"We did something dumb at a party in…junior year of college? We hooked up is the bottom line. And after years of friendship and no sexual tension, something just sparked and we became inseparable. Poor fucking Hux, though, those were two dark years for him."

"I'm still so surprised that you have no issue defending him when he can be such a shit."

"Hux is a terrific friend. Callous and stubborn, but he's loyal beyond belief. One of his closest friends starts dating the love of his life and he still tries to keep the friendship together, so much so that I didn't even _know_ how bad he had it for her. They were childhood friends; he followed her to college the same way I followed Poe."

"And now they're dating."

"Yes, and now they're dating and they manage to look like they hate each other the whole time. If we'd never met, do you think you'd have gotten back together with your ex?"

"Maybe. It's hard to say. But I wouldn't trade you for anything."

He smiles dreamily and her heart stutters. "Do you know how badly I want to kiss you?"

"Probably about as badly as I want to be in your bed right now."

"A little bit more than a month and you can fall asleep in my arms every night until you have to leave."

Tears break. "I don't want to have to leave you again."

"Oh, Sunshine." He pulls his phone closer, rolling onto his back. "Hey, you're doing amazing stuff out there, right?"

"Yeah."

"And it's not forever. I hate it when you cry, especially when I can't hold you. It's not forever. After Christmas, you've got a few more months before you come home and things go back to normal for a while."

"But it's so far away."

"Rey, you're not allowed to be the one complaining about being so far away, that's my shtick. You made the right choice."

"How are you so calm about this when you were the one panicking before?"

"You asked me to be strong for you and I promised I would. And you know, distance blows, but it could be worse."

"I want to tell you I love you again, but I feel like I've said it so many times in these past few months that the words are losing their meaning. They're not special."

"We keep saying it with our voices because we used to be able to say it with our hands, our lips, our bodies, but now we're stuck unable to touch."

"I'm afraid of how badly I need to hold you close to me."

 

She dreams of their parting that night, huddled down in percale sheets and lonely blankets. She wasn't supposed to see him—she only finished packing at two in the morning, not willing to start earlier, afraid that putting things away would only hasten the days to her departure. She told him to go to bed hours ago since he was the one driving her to the airport at 7am, but he didn't listen. He never listened.

Sitting on her bed with her laptop glowing in her lap, he knocked before unlocking her door and letting himself in, standing in the awkward hallway of her studio apartment. She breathed in sharply before relaxing, recognizing the soft falls of his stocking feet.

"Why are you still up?" he had asked, stripping his clothing at the foot of her bed.

"I've got things to do still—assignments to submit, emails to write. I told you to get sleep hours ago."

"Did you really think I'd be content to spend our last night alone?"

She shook her head—no, she'd never thought that. She had known he'd show up sooner or later. Rey had wasted no time opening the covers to him, sliding her computer from the mattress, and folding easily under his chest. His kiss was needy, like a parched beast hunting for water. But it was sweet, gentle, and slow. So slowly they'd taken that night, so softly. He held her close and she buried him in herself, tangling her hands in his hair as he moved like the tide. His touch burned in a cooling way, his mouth hot and tempered on the long stretch of her neck.

She clenched around him and cried into his shoulder at the spark, calmness and serenity spreading in a way they hadn't in months—they hadn't had each other like this in months, if ever. This was love, oh, this had to be love. The fluttering of a heart, as gentle and quivering as the brush of his eyelashes against her cheek. Her cheeks, her face—stained and salted raw. The way he held her was the way the creator held the universe, cautiously and strongly all at once, never daring to let go.

 

"I want to try something," she says when they talk next late at night. She's wearing an old t-shirt that falls down below her pajama pants and she's been watching his eyes flicker from her chest to her thighs since he picked up.

"And what is it you want to test out?"

"Remember how I was always—excited isn't the right word, but—you know, to watch you get yourself off?"

"You've caught my attention."

"Maybe we should try something like that, just once at least."

He nods once and shrugs before shuffling out of his boxers. "Guess I don't need these, then. You don't need those either, especially because I know you haven't got pretty underwear on."

"How can you know that?"

"One: no bra, two: you own two nice pairs and one of them—" He reaches into his nightstand drawer and pulls out the black-and-white striped thong she'd bought for his birthday, "—is here with me. Found it behind my filing cabinet. Have to say I'm a little impressed and really don't remember that night, at all."

"Jesus Christ, Ben, do you pull them out every once in a while to sniff them or some shit?"

"That would be creepy, I do nothing of the sort."

She rolls her eyes and removes the long t-shirt, her chest left bare. The breath that catches in his throat sparks her pulse.

"I'm sorry for staring—"

"You've abused my tits to hell, I'm not bothered."

"Yeah?" He shuffles down into his pillows, one hand moving from his phone to somewhere "Will you touch them for me?"

She leans back, moving her phone to rest above her stomach, anchored between her legs. "How do you want me to do that?"

" _Fuck_ , what a gorgeous angle. God, I wish my mouth were there instead." He gives a low groan mostly for her sake. "You have to actually play with them, Rey. Pretend it's me touching you."

She guides a hand up to cover one of her breasts, touching in the way she knows he does, working her fingers evenly over her skin. It feels good, but it doesn't feel the best. He's missing from this equation of heat and sensation.

It doesn't matter, though, because in fifteen minutes he's directing her fingers with words carrying the weight of thousands of stars, her heartbeat drowned by the pulse of a vibrator with which she'd made quick friends.

" _Rey_ ," he pants, his back arching.

"I'm here." She's getting closer. "Ben, I'm here."

• • •

Outwardly, he seems fine but Poe's learned better. The jump Ben gives when a pint is set before him is all the indication he needs.

"Talk," he commands as falls into the booth beside him, "or I'm telling Greta."

"I never thought this would be one of the worst things I've ever done." Ben takes the offered beer hastily and swallows too much in one go. "I think I'm experiencing physical symptoms of separation."

"That's an _enormous_ load of horseshit."

"My joints ache, I've got constant headaches, I'm slow to think now—how am I supposed to do my job if my brain, the one _goddamn_ computer I need, won't calculate properly?"

"You see a therapist."

"I'm not _depressed_ ," he bites out. "I just miss her."

"I didn't say you were, but I think you should talk to someone."

"I'm talking to you."

"Barely."

Ben had been quiet since Rey left in August. Everyone on the upper floors expected another explosion, but it never came. He arrived to work the morning her plane departed, sighed, squared his shoulders, and carried on like she'd never walked into his life. It was a ruse, of course—he was unable to think of much without her popping to mind and it showed clearly on his face. But he wasn't angry, only tired.

Poe sighs, pulling his fingers through his hair. "You should come out with the guys and me sometime soon, take your mind off things. Because fuck, man, it's like you're in _mourning_ or something. It's only nine months, it's not like you've broken up."

It takes Ben a few minutes before he speaks, his eyes carving holes in the table. "I didn't realize how integrated we'd become, you know? How much of me was actually parts of her sewn together."

"I can't do this sentimentality right now. Finish the beer, I'm getting you shitfaced tonight."

"Poe, I _can't_ —"

"It's hockey season and you're not saying no to me. C'mon."

 

It's past two in the morning by the time he's stumbled back into his apartment. Ben disregards his shoes halfway through the kitchen, clothes coming off at the foot of the bed before he falls—dramatically, and with no audience—backwards onto his sheets. Giddy is how he'd describe this, if he were more conscious of his state. Happy, certainly, because he's had a thought that won't leave his skull no matter how slurry his mind had become.

 _Hey_ , he texts Rey. _Heyyy._ That's too many Ys. The backspace doesn't cooperate. _I've had a thought_.

He gets a response quicker than he anticipates, forgetting she's three hours behind. _How much did Poe give you?_

 _Doesn't matter not important. I realized you're the last person I want_.

Something about the words looks wrong to him.

A minute of radio static is followed by _…then why are we dating?_

Aw fuck. _Nonnnoonono wait no I mean after you I don't want there to be anyone else. I don't want there to be an after you._

She sends a sigh emoji. _If you mean that, text me in the morning. If not, I'll chalk it up to my lonely drunk boyfriend being lonely and drunk_.

_I love you._

He falls asleep before he can read her four corresponding words, falls soundly asleep without ever knowing how hugely she's grinning, or how she's using her cool hands to hide her burning cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	14. White Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, maybe this isn't a good idea. But maybe, maybe it is.
> 
> Rating: mild  
> Tie-ins: fucking everything at this point  
> Additional tags: sounds of Ben's growing distress can be heard in all directions, angst with some plot, hurt/comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get set to get your heart reckt, son
> 
> [muffled Billy Idol playing off in the distance]

It's hot July, apparently the perfect time for a wedding.

'Hot' and 'wedding' should never go together, especially if 'crying babies' and 'drunk relatives' also get thrown into that mix. Oh, and the mosquitoes. _Fuck_ mosquitoes.

Ben is broiling in an indigo Birdseye suit, far too many layers of clothing between the hot air and his skin. Why do a ceremony _outside_ if it's going to be eighty degrees? Also, who brought the baby?

"It's a wedding, stop looking grouchy," Rey warns at his side.

"I'm not grouchy, I'm being _cooked alive_." Who is she to talk? She's in some short cream dress that barely covered her knees. _She_ isn't sweltering.

One of their coworkers is getting married. George, senior software engineer. He'd finally popped the question to his long-time girlfriend last year and they were tying the knot today. In July—fucking July—at Winged Foot, ceremony looking out over the golf course. Though beautiful, it's still outside. The veranda is doing nothing to alleviate the New York summer.

"Do you think I could just watch from the pool," he'd asked Rey when they got out of the car. She kicked his shin before hissing something about him being a pissbaby about temperatures.

She's right, but he's still ruffled about it.

He's about to give her lip again when she smacks his arm and gives a piercing glare to shut the _hell_ up. The bride emerges from the end of the aisle, being led gracefully on her father's arm. Ben is the one who notices dresses, and by God, what a dress. Bare-shouldered with a sweetheart neckline, it's tastefully decorated with off-white lace, ruched at the bust but flowing from the waist. The stark white of the material contrasts so beautifully with her skin. Simple and elegant like the woman wearing it.

Ben doesn't know Julia well; only first met her at the rehearsal dinner. It's Rey who got invited to the wedding, Rey who's close with George. He guesses he was invited too, but it's her crew of downstairs mates who take up most of the groom's side, scattered among family and older friends.

"She's a dream," Rey breathes beside him.

Yes, she certainly is.

It takes a lot of willpower to sit quietly through the ceremony. He's never cared much for weddings—they were unbearably long when we was younger, a growing reminder of his friends finding soulmates while he stayed single when older—and this one is no different. At least it's quick, no excessive talking yet, no speeches until the reception.

The clubhouse is blessedly cool.

The first thing Rey does is find their table. The first thing Ben does is find alcohol. Open bars were just…fantastic. He locates her easily when drinks are in hand, placing a rum and coke in front of her before sliding down beside her.

She frowns slightly before bringing the glass to her lips. "No beer?"

"It's a _wedding_. Enjoy yourself."

"I enjoy beer."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you intended to drive back."

She eyes the wine in his hand. "So the plan is to get me tanked while you sniff haughtily over your chardonnay?"

"It's a Pinot grigio. We've been dating for over two years and you _still_ haven't picked up my wine palate?"

"I save my snobbery for beer."

When Poe returns from his own bar adventure, he trades glasses with Rey and she smirks, triumphant. He rolls his eyes.

He's two glasses in when the cake gets cut and the floor opens for dancing. Poe is up on his feet within seconds. "C'mon," he says to Rey, "one dance and I won't bother you for the rest of the night."

"Not going to happen."

" _Please?_ Who else am I going to ask, Finn?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, that's an option. The blonde bridesmaid has also been eyeing you all evening."

"Friend dance first, then flirting." He turns to Ben. "I'll only have her a few minutes."

"I'm flattered you're asking my approval, but she's in charge and you're not going to get her on her feet."

The look she gives is innocent. "Cats don't dance, sorry playboy."

Ben snakes his arm around her waist after Poe has sauntered off in some direction or another. "If _I_ ask, will I also be denied?"

"Yup."

"Harsh. Can't get my own girlfriend to agree to _one_ dance at a wedding. What is the world coming to?"

"It's coming to I don't dance, I won't dance, and you can't make me. We've gone over this so many times. _I don't dance_."

"I've gotten you on your feet twice."

"Yeah, twice too many times. Once was a bribe."

"So instead you want to look like two losers sitting around drinking. It could be a slow dance—"

"No chance in hell."

"Maybe I should go dance with one of the bridesmaids."

"Hey, as long as they know you're spoken for, I don't care."

He knows one of the girls from their conferences with MAN Dalore Tech, she's a programmer who doubles as a translator when need be. Her name's Maggie. She's cute—young, small, and bright-eyed. She's good on her feet and he's so grateful to have a competent dance partner for the first time in forever. She's not the blonde, though—Poe has that one pressed against his chest, moving expertly across the floor.

"You're pretty good at this!" she yells over the sound.

"Thanks, but I'm a little out of practice."

"Then you must really be something at tip-top shape."

He likes to think so, anyway.

Three songs turn to six and he excuses himself, meandering through the throng to discard his vest. Rey is where he left her, her head close to Finn's as they make hushed conversation.

"Something wrong?"

They jump apart and he raises an eyebrow.

"You're not," Finn starts, looking relieved, "no, nothing's—everything's fine."

Ben slumps into a chair across the table. "That's a shaky response if I've ever heard one."

He's gotten to know Finn more since starting to see Rey. Smart if not a little jumpy. Harmless, that's a good word. Harmless in a way Poe is not—Finn isn't a lady killer and he's grateful Rey's best friend is respectful, unlike some best friends…

"Ben, it's nothing. Honestly. I've got it—go back to whichever girl you were twirling."

"I'd rather be twirling you."

"I don't dance. _Go_."

He heaves a dramatic sigh. "Just _one_ dance. God forbid you let me have _one_ dance. What'll you tell your future husband when you're supposed to have the first dance?"

"The exact same thing. _I do not dance_."

She glares at him until he retreats.

"You look sour," Poe says as he pushes a Manhattan into Ben's hand.

"I'm at a wedding for people I don't know well, with all of my girlfriend's friends whom I _also_ don't know well, and to top it off, said girlfriend refuses all attempts to dance."

"You're really hung up on this, aren't you?"

"Yes!" He downs a third of the glass. "She's driving. I don't care if it's my car and she hates the steering, _she_ can drive home."

Poe sucks in a breath. "If it eases the situation, it's my fault she's currently preoccupied."

" _What did you do?_ " It comes out as a growl.

"I _may_ have, _very_ unintentionally, shot down Finn. When I shouldn't have. So she's cleaning up my mess."

He softens, just a bit, just because it's Poe. "You've every right to be uninterested."

"But I'm not. At least, I don't think. But I don't have the time, and I'm still seeing Laura on the side—"

"You've been seeing Laura 'on the side' for over three years."

"Well, we're not serious about it, you know? It's rare to meet people you like to see, like to get in bed with, and don't want anything further. We're just side acts for each other and that's perfectly fine."

"Not fine for him, though."

"No. He doesn't want a hookup. I don't want a relationship. It's not going well." Poe laughs, his eyes sad. "Of everyone to make an office romance work, it had to be you, didn't it? The most unlikely candidate."

Ben's shrug is sheepish and accompanied by a blush. "I got lucky."

"And am I ever jealous."

Poe and Ben stand on the edges of the room for the rest of the night, tossing small talk around over the rims of glasses. Poe has a lot going on right now, more than Ben realized, and it's nice to be able to catch up.

"I'm getting _old_ ," Ben says somewhere after the second Manhattan.

"Don't say that—it means _I'm_ getting old too, and I assure you I am _not_ a lecherous old man yet."

"We're in our thirties. Everyone around us is getting hitched. I'm dating a girl who's barely twenty-five—if that's not a plea at trying to salvage youth, what is?"

"A midlife crisis sports car."

"Isn't she kind of like my sports car?"

"You better have a _nice_ car picked out for this metaphor."

"What I mean is…are we going to end up alone at forty, drinking whisky in the summer on your balcony and griping about wasted opportunities?"

Poe's face scrunches up. "Don't think she's marriage material?"

"She could be, but we're being pulled apart. My mother wants her out there again in December, have her transfer to Stanford's graduate program and finish up at the end of next fall. She's seriously thinking about taking the offer."

"You could go out there too."

"But I _like_ it here. I like my job. I like that I'm allowed the freedom I am since we're private sector. I enjoy working around friends, and I hate the City's bones sometimes but I can't imagine not calling it home."

"Have you talked with her about this?"

Ben rolls his eyes. "Remember how that went _last_ time?" Another sip and his drink is gone. "I'm not going to limit her. She's free to make her own choices without me. I meant what I said—she's in charge of herself…and I know she likes it better out there. Who am I to stop her?"

"Hypothetically—you're potentially the love of her life, and that should mean something. In reality—just another boyfriend."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're just _fantastic_ at cheering people up?"

"Hey, you're the one who looks like he could use a good mope. And I've known you _forever_ , I'm not going to sugarcoat or cushion a blow."

"I just…" He trails off, eyes wandering to where she sits. She's so beautiful, even from so far away. "I want her. Right now in time, I want her around, forever. I won't have an 'after Rey' because there shouldn't _be_ anyone after Rey." He looks down at his best friend, weakness spilling from his loose tongue. "We haven't been dating that long, but she's become…everything. And I can't tell her, because I _know_ , I know it'll affect her decision. She'll do what's right for me instead of what's right for her and she'll regret it the second I'm out of her life."

Poe raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"It's where she's going—she can do better and she will. She'll grow tired of me first, and then someone new will sweep her away. I'm in the right age bracket to marry—she isn't, she's young. Why anchor down now?"

"Is it _impossible_ for you to be happy or rational, for even a second?"

"I thrive on illogical misery."

"How's your therapist liking that?"

Ben sighs, his voice monotone. "Cindy thinks I have a lot of parental issues to work out before we can start fixing other aspects of my life. And I won't talk to my dad, and my dad won't talk to me, so we're at an impasse."

A slow song starts before Poe speaks again. "You know, a lot of relationships are supposed to be about compromising to make the other person happy."

"I am compromising."

"No, you're self-sacrificing in some fucked-up altruistic way. You sacrifice on small things, compromise on big things. Talk to her."

"Didn't you tell her to forget me when she got the internship?"

"I told her what she needed to hear, just like I'm telling you what _you_ need to hear."

"Fuck off and stop being right."

Poe grins and knocks against Ben's arm. "No can do. We made that blood pact back in the second grade remember? You're stuck with me."

 

Ben clambers slowly into the passenger's side of the sedan, fumbling uselessly with the seat controls. Why was she so short? Leg room, what the _fuck_ was leg room?—oh, there's the button, just have to—

"Are you buckled in yet, Sasquatch?"

He narrows his eyes. "You're a she-demon with tiny-ass legs."

"I'm seven inches shorter, calm down."

"Seven inches is a _lot!_ "

"I dunno, it's shorter than your dick," Rey says with a small shrug.

His face lights on fire so badly his ears turn red.

"It was a nice wedding," she comments when they're a quarter of the way home, breaking the comfortable silence.

He tears his eyes away from the road ahead, forcing himself to look at her. "It was, yeah."

"They were beautiful together, too. I hope my groom looks at me like that, if and when I ever get married."

Has she not…has she not thought about him that way, then? No, no of course not. He's not an option if he won't move out to San Francisco and she's got her whole life ahead of her, miles and miles away.

He waits until they're in Riverdale to speak again. "Have you thought about getting married?"

"Not really, no. Why, have you?"

"Yeah, maybe a little. Every once in a while settling down doesn't sound that awful." He lets out a shaky breath, watching the New York Times building pass, its gaudy paint dimmed to low tones in the nightfall.

They make small unimportant comments on the way up the stairs. He holds the door out for her and heads straight for the bathroom, needing to brush the taste of alcohol from his teeth. She butts in to grab her toothbrush to wash up at the kitchen sink.

She's curled up with a book by the time he finishes his routine. There are knots in his chest and the thought of that bed empty of her for another stretch of time tightens them like a winch. How had he let her in like this, allowed her to get caught up so deep that every wrong thing sends razor blades racing through his stomach in a panic?

"Hey," he says gently as he slides beside her, careful to stay on his side. "You know I love you, right?"

"You've only been saying it for the past year and a half, I think it would be hard to forget."

"But you know the implications, right? I'd do anything for you, if you ask. Whatever you wanted, or needed."

She puts the book down on the floor and turns to him. "You're getting sappy."

"And is that a bad thing?"

"You're a bumbling mess around me, Ben, but you're never really _sappy_. It's out of character, so yes, you're scaring me a little here."

"I…" He falters. "I don't want you to leave again. I let you go last time, but this time, I want you to stay. Because, if by some miracle, I play my cards right, I think I'd want to do that with you. Cry like an idiot when you get walked down the aisle. And that can't happen, won't happen, if I'm here and you're there."

"Are you…proposing?"

"No. I'm asking you to talk about the future with me. Our future. Because we haven't, not really, and it's gnawing at my edges."

She's quiet for too long. He's considering excusing himself to sleep on the couch. He's fucked up again.

Rey's voice is soft when she finally speaks. "Can I sleep on it?"

"Yeah." He nods, fingers locked tightly into the sheets. "Yeah, sleep on it. Take whatever time you need."

Rey clicks her lamp out and they're left basked the city lights.

She rolls to face him, her face half-hidden by her pillow. "Back in November, when I was still out there, you texted me something while drunk. Do you remember?"

Of course he remembers, what the hell sort of question is that? "I don't want another after you."

"And you never brought it up again. Why?"

"I didn't want to weigh you down with that. Box you in because you're everything I've wanted, make you feel obligated to stay. I love you but I don't own you, and I shouldn't ask you to have that conversation with me."

"But I _told_ you, I said if you were serious about it that we should talk. And it never came up again."

"Because I thought—listen, Sunshine, do you _want_ to be my endgame?"

"I don't know, Ben. It's a huge decision I haven't devoted a lot of time to making yet."

He sighs and sits up, swinging his legs over the bed. "I understand."

"Wait, don't—Ben, where the _hell_ are you going?"

"To sleep on the couch?"

"Sleep here, in your own bed. I want you beside me." She takes his wrist. "C'mon, just because I haven't thought about that doesn't mean I haven't thought about other things. I still love you. I still want you here. You've turned me into a cuddler and frankly, if you go wallow on the couch, I'm going to join you in about fifteen minutes because your bed is huge and lonely without you."

He lets her pull him down beside her, heart aching up a storm. His eyes feel bleary when he searches out the sincerity on her face. He doesn't want to cry in front of her, not again, not after the mess of tears he was when she came home for Christmas.

"I think I'd want to," she whispers into his hair, cradling his head under her chin. "If the timing isn't awful."

"It doesn't have to be now."

"I'll make brunch in the morning. We can talk about it over mimosas."

"I'd like that." Finally, finally, he lets his arm curl around her waist, holding her like she's his only anchor in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the reason why I suck is because the next chapter will be that Christmas homecoming. 
> 
> I bathe in the tears of your suffering.


	15. If You Host It, They Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is the jealous one, apparently. Parties are wonderful places to gossip.
> 
> Drabble rating: Explicit. Oooh boy.  
> Tie-ins: Most things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe no one commented on the big dick joke in the last one, I just cannot fucking believe you people.
> 
> I write them so lovesick here that it's killing my angsty drama vibes in my actual serious fic. Fuck.

The six hours she spends on the plane go by like they're nothing while simultaneously being the longest hours of her short life. Worse than the hours she spent taking the boards, worse than the hours counting down to if she made it into her grad program or not—worse than pretty much everything thus far.

As soon as the wheels touch down and the seatbelt sign blinks off, she's on her feet. She has one measly bag aside from the rucksack tucked under her seat and she's off like a flash. It's been so long, Christ, it's been _so long_. Over four months she's been away and it feels like an eternity.

She breaches the gate and she's ready, every cell in her goddamn body is ready, she's going to—

Fling herself into Finn and Poe's arms…?

Rey wraps herself around both boys, squeezing their shoulders to pieces.

"How are you? How is everything so far?"

"Damn, girl, you've gotten _super_ tan. Spending a lot of time outside? How's the ocean?"

"One at a time!" she laughs, detaching herself. "And not that I'm not excited and immensely glad to see you two, but wasn't Ben supposed to be fetching me?"

"He—"

Her phone reconnects to a signal and vibrates up a storm. Good God, she's got five texts, three missed calls, and two voicemails. One is from Ben, the other, Poe.

"Meeting? This late?"

"Really last minute. I should technically be there too, but we couldn't leave you stranded for who knows how many hours." Poe shrugs. "A lot's changed since you've been gone."

"We've been so busy all this month. We're preparing a co-project with another firm, set to kick off after New Years."

"Your place is still being sublet, right?"

"Yeah, until June. I'm supposed to be staying with Ben until I go back."

Poe rolls his eyes. "Is anyone surprised?"

 

The drive from JFK to midtown wasn't as awful as it should have been. It's a Friday night right before the week of Christmas—it should have been _hell_ to drive, but it isn't. It is, however, after 10pm, so maybe the time is easing the way, or maybe she's just lucky.

Poe and Finn insist on climbing up to Ben's place with her, demanding to take all two of her bags up the elevator to the twelfth floor. She sighs and lets their nonsense persist, no harm done. She can give them each another hug before settling into bed alone; perhaps even fish a glass of wine from the kitchen.

The door to the apartment opens before she can get her key in the lock and there, in the white marble and black oak kitchen, is everyone she knows in the tri-state area.

Well, not _quite_ everyone, but it's close enough.

She doesn't see them, though, not over his frame. Rey launches herself at those shoulders, legs up off the ground as she's pulled into the most crushing bear hug of her life. He smells the same way she's dreamed about since she left, smoky cologne mixed with sea breeze detergent. His body feels a little different and the back of her mind panics before she realizes why.

"Been hitting the gym hard since I left?" she asks when he sets her down.

"Have to look good for my girlfriend. Have you seen her around? She's about your height, biggest smile I've ever seen, bit paler, and not nearly as toned. I mean," he takes her arm, grinning as she flexes under his hand, "your biceps are crazy, there's no way the two of you are the same person."

"Afraid I haven't, sorry, maybe check the airport?"

His grin is enormous, perfect, and everything she's been waiting for.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"First kiss after a long wait in front of everyone you know? You'll kill me for embarrassing you."

A few of her friends chuckle as Rey blushes.

"Nothing we haven't seen before," Poe says with a laugh.

"If I _must_ ," Ben says with a huge sigh.

And the asshole French dips her.

 

She makes an incredible effort to speak to every single person who's shown up. There's a lot of wine and brandy around and she loses count of her glasses around midnight—not because there's a lot, but because Ben and Finn keep finding her and topping off whatever she's drinking. They're getting along, somehow, and she's really glad for that.

Rey doesn't see Ben much aside from that. He's flitting around being the gracious host his mother brought him up to be, making conversation in all circles that have gathered in his apartment. The place is crowded but it's not loud, some light concerto drifting through the backdrop, lying just under the chatter of the guests. She ends up on Poe's shoulders at one point, being paraded through the kitchen in an attempt to get a punch bowl off the top of the cabinets. Ben plucks her down and fetches a chair.

Around twelve-thirty, she attaches herself to his arm, champagne flute in hand, listening intently to some conversation about SDVs and their _Chiron_ models. They're almost finished with the full-scale prototype and Ben is practically vibrating he's so excited to talk about it.

She nestles tighter against his side. She's missed this about him, the child-like elation he gets when discussing his work. He's always wanted to touch the stars, ever since he was small. His grandfather was a pioneering physicist on the _Apollo_ mission and Ben—one day Ben's going to achieve something greater, she can feel it. She looks up at him, watching him explain the purpose of their new design, remarking how… _brilliant_ his smile is, how much she's missed him, how _good_ it is to be home. To again be near this marvel of a man. She wouldn't trade him for the universe.

Poe pulls her away at some point, leading her into the den where a few of the girls are left gossiping. She sits on the floor in front of the coffee table as Harriet launches into some long drawn-out account of one of their new interns making the hilariously bad mistake of trying to hit on Ben.

"I don't think I've ever seen a man look so _uncomfortable_ ," she laughs. "Niamh, you were down there, right?"

"If I hadn't heard the conversation as it happened, I would have guessed someone told him all the toilets in the building had been replaced with litter boxes."

"I'd say poor girl, but we warned her."

Rey turns to Poe. "Did you see the aftermath?"

"Oh _boy_. All right, so I'm bringing up the newest blueprints for approval so I can start the interns on them after lunch, and I do the normal thing, I knock. No response, and I _know_ he's up there because I paged Nancy before coming up to make sure he was in. So I open the door, figuring the worst that's going to happen is I walk in on him jerking it or sacrificing another goat to Satan—can't put anything past Solo. I'm greeted instead to the sight of Ben sitting at his desk, head in hands, with the most thousand-yard stare I've _ever_ seen out of a human being. He looks up at me and very, very quietly says—"

"Poe, would it be strange if I started wearing a wedding ring? Or carrying around pictures of children I don't have? Would anyone question it? These women, I can't deal with these _women_."

"You missed the dramatic voice, but otherwise that was pretty close," Poe says with a shrug as Ben falls into the seat beside him.

"Jeez, I hope I'm pretty good at imitating myself."

"Was that not the only time it's happened?" Rey asks, sitting on her hands. She doesn't need the rest of that champagne, she doesn't.

"Nope," the boys crow in unison.

"I got hit on by one of the execs at one of the firms we're collaborating with who was very polite when I explained I'm in a serious relationship, another coworker in the financial department who was _not_ polite about the whole 'I have a girlfriend' thing. A few people at bars but that's to be expected—"

"The one really pushy guy at the coffee shop," Poe adds.

"'Pushy' is the biggest understatement of the year. I'm still trying my best to forget that happened."

"What about you, girl? Any awkward stories?"

"One of the interns made a really blatant move on me and I shot him down harder than I should have, but that's about it. I get eyed when I'm working out, but I kind of expect that, like how I keep catching myself admiring other girls' butts."

Harriet is the one to look at Ben now with a grin straight from hell.

He groans. "No, please, we're _not_ giving that any attention. It never happened."

No, no he's not getting off that easily. Rey whips around to Harriet, eyes hungry. "You're required to spill now."

"Ben had a gym stalker."

" _Please_ , we do not need to remember this."

"We're members at the same club and after a while we started going at the same time. And we're friendly, right, Ben?"

He nods though he's burying his face in his hands.

"Because I'm friends with you, and you're dating him, makes sense we might chat if we run into each other, yeah? Well, this one girl was just _not_ happy about that."

"I started going past midnight when it got bad and she _still_ found me."

"We made a show of fake dating for a month and a half before she stopped trying to touch him during a workout."

"I reported her to the staff so, so many times. But she's more VIP than I am and it took three months to get her booted." He looks up, the horror of a lifetime in his eyes. "I wanted the earth to open and swallow me whole."

"And you never told me?" Rey's arms are across her chest now. She's a little upset, but watching him suffer like this is hilarious, if not for anything but his grim facial expressions.

"You'd have worried if I did. Or fly back and punch her out yourself."

"I wouldn't—"

"I'm not the jealous one of us two."

He had her there.

 

Poe and Finn are the last to leave. Poe leaves his keys on the counter and promises to be back around noon to pick up his car, warning to call if "any shenanigans are still going on" at that time.

The second the door closes behind him, Ben has her wrapped against his chest, kissing the life out of her.

"Don't I get a chance to _breathe?_ " Rey asks with a laugh as he backs her against one of the kitchen walls, hoisting her up so her legs settle nicely around his waist.

"You've had a chance to breathe all night." He nips her neck, her ear, her jaw. He nuzzles against her bare shoulder, his breath warm on her skin. "I've missed you so, so much."

Her fingers tangle into his hair. "I've missed you more."

"Hmm, doubt that."

Their lips meet, closed mouth for the briefest moment before the hunger takes over again and it's all a mess of tongues and teeth. Her hands rake up his back while his tug at her hair, forcing them as close together as possible. They're so _needy_ , she thinks as he sucks a great big mark under her jaw. He's doing that branding thing again—she's the jealous one but he's _possessive_. She has to be marked; her skin has to reflect _him_ , his touch, his teeth—

"My beautiful, _beautiful_ girl," he half-growls near her ear, hands wrapping under her ass so he can carry her into the bedroom.

She expects to be thrown unceremoniously onto the sheets, but he lies her down gently, letting his shoulders and chest make up the ceiling of her world. The kisses are soft now, softer than they have been in ages—not that they've kissed in ages. That thought makes her bite again, has her hands cupping his jaw and pulling him down onto her body.

"I love you," he mutters against her skin as he peels off her layers. "And I've missed you. Is this real? Are you here, or am I dreaming?"

"I'm here." She drags him up from unlacing her boots. "We're not dreaming."

He lets her remove his sweater and unbutton his shirt, his hands annoyingly wandering back to her waist whenever she needs him to move his arms out of the way. They're a tangle of limbs when the last sock is discarded onto the floor. His lips are everywhere; against her neck, pressed to her forehead, wrapped around the nipple of the breast not in his hand.

"These feel a little bigger," he says as presses his face to the space between her breasts, a hand cupped around each.

"I switched my birth control, went up a cup size."

"I didn't mind them small but—" He licks a stripe from the underside of one breast to the nipple, sucking gently. She mewls, back arching. "—I think they're a little more sensitive now."

"You're a _demon_."

"Wonder what it would feel like to have my cock between them now?"

"Do you want to find out?"

He kisses her hard on the mouth before rising onto his knees, positioning the tower of his body over her, careful not to press his weight into her ribs. The look of pleasure on his face is enough to get her hands to settle on his hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the muscles of his groin. He's really been working out, Christ, his legs feel like marble pillars under her fingers.

"You're so perfect," he mumbles, kneading her breasts against his skin.

"Can I?" One of her hands has found his tip, too far for her tongue to reach.

" _Please_." It's nearly a moan. He reangles himself, letting her up a little so she can take him into her mouth. Ben whines, one hand moving to the sheets to steady himself. It's been so long since she's tasted him, had him this needy for her, she feels frenzied to have him closer, deeper, encouraging his thrusts with the flick of her tongue.

"Wait." He stops her, drawing back. Rey makes a displeased noise as he dips to kiss her. "I'm going to last all of five minutes since it's been _four months_ and I made a promise to myself, about when you got home."

"It better be a good promise."

He moves down, spreading her legs with a gentle touch, one hand caresses in the inside of her thigh while the other lazily explored her clit. "Give me like, an hour, okay?"

"A _whole hour?_ "

"Yeah." He kisses the inside of her knee. "Maybe an hour and a half."

"Thirty minutes, tops."

"I'm sorry, the minimum is sixty minutes."

Her next argument is cut off by his lips pressing against her clit, hot and wonderful. He rotates between sucking and laving, his fingers stroking through her folds at an unbearably slow pace. He dips down every few minutes, his nose nudging against—oh, _fuck_ , she hasn't felt this good since she left. He curls one finger into her, stroking pressure against a spot right inside. Her hips buck and he changes his pace, another finger added for twice the torture.

"Having fun yet?" he asks after her second orgasm. She isn't given a chance to respond before he's back to turning her into gelatin. "You taste _so good_ ," he says against her thigh, his soiled mouth staining her skin. "I love your filthy little noises. And they're all for me, right? Tell me, I want to know in detail."

"They're all for you." Her voice is breathy, stolen away by another involuntary moan. "All for your wet mouth and— _fuck, Ben, right there_."

He's smirking when she can finally look up, her head heavy and filled with haze. He locks eyes with her before licking his fingers clean in a slow, languid, terribly dirty way. Then he's up on his knees, flipping her around and pulling her hips up. She barely has time to register what's happening before he's buried deep inside her.

Rey sucks in a breath before the next traitorous groan leaves her chest. One of Ben's hands is on her hip, the other chasing down her thigh. He gets in a few thrusts before forcing her chest down into the bed with his weight, his body lined tightly up against hers.

"You're _so wet_ ," he mutters into the skin below her ear. "I think I'm in heaven because you feel _so good_."

"Fuck me _harder_ , Solo."

His teeth drag on her back and he rises onto his knees again, moving her hips so he can thrust down into her. "You have the nicest ass, _fuck_ , I love watching my cock slide into you like this." He presses his hand against her lower belly, feeling the motions of her muscles. "How do you like this?"

"I like it when you go deeper. You've a huge dick, Ben, _use it_."

"Gladly."

His entirely length rubs at the spot at the front of her walls and she cries against the pillows, fingers gliding across his as she massages her clit. Fuck, fuck, she's close again.

She waits for his orgasm to start before she lets herself come again, moaning for him as he's hot as fire inside of her, his breath fast and her name running on his lips over and over again. His arms shake and his chest is against her back again, the weight of him on top of her comforting and unbearably warm. With a bite to her shoulder, he pulls out and rolls off onto his back. They lie in silence for a few minutes, glowing, too satiated to move.

Rey is the first to catch her breath, moving to kiss his temple. His eyes are closed but… "Ben, are you crying?"

"No."

"Yes you are." She swipes a tear from his cheek, raising an eyebrow.

"I've—huh. I've never done this before."

Oh shit, there's the choked sound in his throat. "Hey." She peppers his cheeks with kisses, stroking his hair. "It's all right."

"It's weird."

"Is something bothering you?"

"I…" He goes quiet, catching her eyes before looking down, ashamed. "I've just missed you so much. It's been so hollow without you here and I guess I'm just…elated, to have you back, even if it's only for a few weeks."

"It's only a few more months after this."

"I know but—" No, no, no, she can't handle how much his voice is breaking. He's not a pretty crier, he's really not. "I never, _never_ want to wake up without you here. It's awful. I've been alone for so many years. No one's cared about me this much before. You make my chest ache in the best possible way, and I don't want to come home to a future that doesn't include you." He laughs, wiping the tears off his face. " _This_ is embarrassing."

"I don't think so."

"You're not the one professing some of your deepest fears."

"Are those things really what eat at you most at night?"

"Yeah. But so does the memory of almost crashing my dad's car when I was eighteen, the idea of having to live with my mother for the rest of my life, trolls—I just, I fucking _hate_ trolls, the big weird ones with the bulbous skin and the malformed teeth, I'm getting fucking goose bumps thinking about this—not living up to standards, and the perpetual fear of wearing my clothing inside-out on really important days."

"Nice serious conversation deterrent."

"I don't want to end the evening on a bad note."

"Talking about serious stuff isn't a bad note."

"Sad note, then. No more sad stuff tonight. You're home and I'm thrilled to pieces." He rolls onto his side and hugs her against him, burying his face into her neck. "What do you want to do for breakfast tomorrow?"

"You."

"…All right, what _food_ do you want for breakfast tomorrow? Do you want to stay in or go out?"

"If we stay in, will you cook it naked?"

"No. No scaring the shit out of Poe when he comes back for his keys."

"Then there's that little diner a few blocks down I really like. We could get coffee and sit at the little bar in the window, watching the people walk by."

He hums and kisses her throat. "Sounds fantastic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'll do one more for her Christmas homecoming and then get back to business.  
> Or write about how he stole all those panties at the beginning...


	16. Panty Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like something out of Ocean's Eleven, only entirely unintentional, and nothing like Ocean's Eleven.
> 
> Rating: M  
> This one comes directly after First Mistakes!  
> Tags: *chanting* panty raid panty raid, with no actual panty raid, developing relationship, humor, huge comedic overtones, kinda fluffy?, a little smutty?, you decide

His head is a mess in the morning. Not a total mess, but an unpleasant mess. He has the sort of hangover that isn't awful enough to warrant chugging a gallon of water and lying in bed with saltines, trying his best not to move. Not that he can do that if he wants to—there's a guest in his bed. Ben wakes up disoriented, still tired, and half on the couch. What time is it? Fuck, it's not even eight on Saturday morning. He can't just kick her out, but he'd really like to go back to sleep.

Coffee.

The motions are second nature and before he realizes what he's doing, he's got grounds in the filter and he _really wants to go back to bed_. But stale coffee is the _worst_ and these are the last of his really nice beans. Fuck. Arugh.

A quarter of an hour passes and she emerges while he's seated at the island with toast, groggily mulling over the _Wall Street Journal_. It takes him a moment to notice the furtiveness in her walk, how she's trying to sneak out without being seen.

"It's rude to leave without saying a word."

She freezes and stares at him with blank eyes. He's tall and huge and hard to miss—how hadn't she noticed him sitting there?

"Did you not have a good time last night?"

"No, I…" She fumbles, cheeks red. "I just didn't expect to stay."

"We didn't do anything."

"Well, you did kiss me."

Shit. Shit, he did, didn't he? He brought her home, offered his bed, kissed her, and then didn't fuck her. _Why_ didn't he fuck her? She's disastrously pretty. Smart, too. Oh, right, they work together and he's much higher on the food chain. That's not appropriate behavior for a superior.

Neither is kissing an intern.

"You said we'd talk in the morning."

She's quick to flush. "I did."

This is like pulling teeth. He gestures to the stool across the counter. "Take a seat, have some coffee. Would you like toast?"

"That's fine, really."

She declines food and drink as she settles herself uneasily across from him. There's nervousness about her features, something that wasn't present last night, not after they'd started talking. She's turned into a fearful fawn.

"Are you _sure_ I can't get you anything?"

"I'd love to brush my teeth, but I can wait until I get home."

"You did have fun last night, right?"

She eases her elbows onto the counter, looking down, away from him. "Yeah, I did. I had a good time."

"Should I not have kissed you?"

The answer to this question from a logical, levelheaded perspective, was no, he should not have. He should not have thrown caution out the door and kissed her not once, but twice. Forcefully. Stupid cocktails.

"I'm not really one for casual hookups."

He laughs. "Once you're thirty, people start calling it an affair."

"One night stands, whatever. Especially if I work with the other person."

"So it's a good thing we didn't have sex."

"Probably. But…" Her face morphs. She looks like she's wincing, torn between two sides. Rey bites her lip and the hair on his neck prickles. "You're a really _passionate_ kisser."

"There's still time to make a good mistake, you know."

His sentence hangs in the air. She looks uncomfortable. He's not sure what made him say it. He's not sure what he'll do if she walks out now. They're sober. It wouldn't be some drunken mistake—

Rey pushes back from the counter, standing on shaky knees. Ben's heart is pummeling his ribs in the face of imminent rejection. He fucked up, he fucked up, he always fucks up.

"Just this one time." Her eyes are hungry, hands stilled at her sides.

"One time what?"

"Sex. This one time. If you want to—"

He's not sure he's ever been so quick to kiss someone in his life.

She fits easily into his lap and he holds her there, hands exploring the shape of her ass. It takes no time at all for him to hoist her up and carry her back to the bedroom. Her breath is stale but she's too fucking attractive for it to matter.

"I don't give oral to first time partners," he says after he sets her down on the sheets.

"That's fine. I don't cuddle."

He stops.

"Why?"

She shrugs and shucks her shirt. "It's too intimate."

" _Sex_ is intimate."

"Yeah, it's physically intimate. Cuddling is emotionally intimate."

His shirt is coming off now. "This is almost a deal breaker."

"Really? I didn't think you'd be the type."

"What gave you that impression?"

"I don't know. You always seem cold."

Ben hums in thought, resting above her on his forearms. "I suppose I do." He presses his lips to the hollow of her throat before moving up to her neck, god, she tastes like salt and skin but it's good, oh it's good. He's going to fuck her into next Saturday. "I'm warning you now, I've never left a partner unsatisfied. I might be cold at work but I'm not cold in bed."

"No?"

"No," he repeats against her lips, his presence flutter-light and gentle. Then, disposing of his self-restraint, he descends.

• • •

Rey really did not cuddle.

She was a fantastic lover in every way aside from that one fact. Her body under his was like magic; subtle muscles thrumming under smooth skin, perky breasts—small, but they fit in his hands, fit in his mouth, and his head fit well between them—and legs for days. Oh, fuck, those legs. He restrained himself for all of two more encounters before burying his head between them. The way she _moaned_ , god. It had been forever since he'd last slept with someone so responsive to his touch, someone so sated by him. Sleeping with her was like a power trip.

But after the act finished, she rose from his bed, dressed, and left. If she didn't leave that night, she'd leave in the morning when he was still half-asleep, never quite waking until the door to his room closed so quietly behind her. It was impersonal. It was supposed to be impersonal, but it still hurt his ego.

He catches her on her way out about a week and a half into their affair. "You're forgetting something."

Rey stops her exit, pants halfway up her legs. "What?"

He rises, shuffling sleepily to his clean laundry pile, plucking a distinctly feminine pair of underwear from the mass. They're white with yellow polka dots and the faintest lace decoration at the waistband. "I don't know how you forgot your _underwear_ last time."

She flushes, snatches them back, and stumbles out a thank you before rushing from the apartment.

* * *

It takes two weeks of sleeping around for Harriet to find her.

Harriet is a fuel technologies intern, a year ahead of Rey and maybe two years older. She's tall—Rey is above average height, but Harriet is _tall_. And pretty. And _intimidating_.

"Word upstairs is that you're fucking Solo."

Rey almost drops her coffee mid sip. " _Pardon?_ "

"One: Dameron can't keep his mouth shut. Two: Hux thinks he's scary enough that no one would dare repeat snatches of his conversations. Problem is we hate him enough to make that challenge. So, are you in fact fucking Solo?"

" _Harriet_."

"What? I've heard he's excellent in bed. C'mon, I _feed_ on gossip."

"Then what the hell made you want to pursue a STEM career instead of something like real estate or finance?" Somewhere everyone in the office was doing something scandalous?

"I like science. I set a full bathtub on fire once."

"That makes you a pyro."

"Whatever. You're dodging the question so I'll take it as a yes. He looks like he'd be stiff as a board in bed, though. Like, not a good lay, at all."

Rey frowns, the urge to defend Ben moving her mouth before her brain catches up. "He's very eager to please."

"Wait, the rumors around him are actually _true_? That _never_ happens."

"Yes, fine, they are. He's not shit. He's…" He's the best she's ever had. He's so careful about her needs. But he's also so hungry to touch her when it ends and she can't risk the feelings. She can't risk developing a crush on a vice chair while she's only an intern. "Good," she finishes lamely.

"Good? Just good?"

"Yeah, sure. He's good."

• • •

" _Good_ is the only way you could describe me?" Ben asks before biting her neck. He's got her up on her knees, face in the pillows. His hands are firm on her hips as he thrusts into her, filling her to the brim. She doesn't think she's ever had someone as big as him before—that first morning she almost cried from his size. Almost eight inches. _Almost eight inches!_ Her first boyfriend was a solid five and Ben is longer and thicker than any of her previous partners. The first few minutes with him are always the roughest to get used to.

"What did you _want_ me to say?" Her voice is choked with slight pain and overwhelming pleasure. He knows how to angle himself and— _fuck_ —he's good, he's so goddamn good.

"You were supposed to bolster my ego." He runs his fingers around her inner thighs before stroking her clit in time to his movements. "Should have told her I'm the _best_ you've ever had."

"That would be telling the truth though."

He stops abruptly. His hands wander up and down her sides, gentle, soothing. His voice is soft. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. You're _fucking good_ _at fucking_."

"I'm going to make you come four more times before you leave, just for that."

* * *

Ben stares in silent horror at the growing collection of girly underpants in his top dresser drawer. She keeps scuttling out _every damn time_ she comes over. If some clothing article isn't present in her immediate dash to the door, it gets left behind. Socks, a few hair ties, one flannel, and a _pile_ of panties. He's surprised a bra hasn't been added to the mix, but that's probably the one thing she really can't go home without.

They've been hooking up for a little less than a month, but she comes over most nights. And leaves at the crack of dawn. He can't figure out if it's because she has places to be, or because she's embarrassed of sleeping with him. Embarrassed that he turns her into jelly and because he's one of the company's true vultures, always with death on his wings and a look of cruel impatience in his eyes. He wouldn't blame her if that were her reason. He doubted he'd be sleeping with himself were he in her shoes.

She should really stop leaving things here, then. Especially if she decides to disappear into a fog one of these days.

But she doesn't disappear. She shows up at his door cross, hands on her hips, demanding all the undergarments he's been hoarding—not that he's trying to. She's just too scared of waking up to find him conscious that she leaves them all about his room. And he washes them and stores them for her the next time she comes, but she's never asked for them back and he's never remembered.

Their first date is _awful_. They don't talk for weeks afterwards.

The second one is better.

She lets him get closer, lets him pull her to him, to wrap her up in his arms. She's smaller, but she's just right. Smooth, beautiful, and soft. They might not sleep together that time, but to him, this is just as good. It's been weeks and weeks and he's just now allowed to touch her like a lover should.

"I was afraid I'd develop feelings," she says against his throat. Her skin is so warm.

"Did not touching me prevent that?"

"No. I think it made it worse." She shifts again, her fingers dancing across his skin. "Are you sure we're not going to get in trouble for this?"

"I don't think we have anything in our policy that says we can't. But I also don't think it's ever come up before."

"If we do get in trouble, what happens?"

"I take the fall. You're not getting anything out of our arrangement but a lover; I'm not favoring you, you're not my department. We should be fine."

And they are fine. Everything is fine except—

The panties.

 _She_ _keeps doing this_.

He's certain at this point every goddamn pair of underwear she owns has, at one point, found a home in his armoire. She doesn't realize she's doing it. She doesn't put two and two together until she's livid and barging into his apartment. He curses that the doormen know her by face and let her in without a second thought. He curses that he gave her the spare key, because now it's nine in the morning on a Sunday and she's tearing his room apart.

"You're acting like this isn't a random occurrence."

"It's not." She whips around, jabbing a finger at his chest. She's got the pink pair with little gingerbread hearts balled into her fist, the ones he likes best. "This is the third time, you've got to be doing it on purpose."

"How am I _forcing_ you to leave without your underwear? How is this _my_ fault?"

"I don't know, but you're scheming, I can tell from your face. Don't give me that _look_!"

"Listen, Sunshine—"

" _Every single pair, Ben._ And I hate that pet name. I _hate_ it."

"You hate it because you're currently furious with me, for whatever reason—"

"I made it _very_ clear—"

"And you're still the one leaving in a flash in the morning. You know the whole going out to dinner thing we do? The holding hands, the kissing goodnight? We're not _hooking up_ anymore. You agreed to date me, when you do plan to stop being so ashamed of me?"

She studies his face, seeing her anger mirrored in him, on him. He's trying his best to control his temper.

"I'm not ashamed of you."

He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Could have fooled me."

"I'm not, I just…"

"You didn't have to say yes if you didn't want to. You don't need to say yes now. If you want to go, then go. Leave the key on the island when you do."

"Ben—"

"I'm difficult, I know. They weren't lying when they warned you."

She shuffles on her feet, finally making the decision not to approach him. "I'm nervous, not ashamed. It's been…a while, since I last dated. And I didn't think I'd try again so soon. You're…" She looks up, grimacing but eyes soft, fearful almost. "Intimidating. I'm younger. I've got less experience, in a lot more places than one. And the _looks_ I get now from other people in our building. They think I'm trying to climb some ladder and I don't even know _why_. It's like I crossed a line and started dating Satan."

"You'd have to be dating Hux to be dating Satan."

She chuckles a little, arms wrapped around her frame. "I'm sorry for freaking out. I'm good at hiding insecurities."

"I apologize for insinuating. Who looks at you funny?"

"No. No, I know that look. Poe told me to be wary of that look. Do _not_ beat anyone up for me, please. I can handle myself."

He moves in front of her, plucking her hands from her shields and laying them on his hips. "Just because you can handle yourself doesn't mean I don't want to make it clear that messing with you is messing with me."

"Don't defend my honor. Please."

"I'm defending _my_ honor."

"Ben, no."

It's her smile, the little twitch of her lips when she's disappointed but still amused. It's that expression that makes him dip to meet her, to pull her closer until she's stumbling against his chest. She tastes of hazelnut coffee and toothpaste.

"Are you off anywhere important this morning?"

"I'm meeting Finn for a late lunch around two."

He drags her down onto the bed with him, hovering above with a positively lecherous smile. "Do you want to sacrifice another pair of underwear?"

Rey smacks him in the chest. "You _ARE_ doing this on purpose!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> throws chronological order out of a window


	17. Skeleton Closets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the fun kind of morning after conversation, but it has to be said. Or not, but that means they'll end up falling apart, doesn't it?
> 
> Tie-In: Immediate aftermath of White Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as angsty as the title suggests but there are allusions as to why Ben can't just 'PACK UP AND MOVE WITH HER ALREADY YOU HUGE DUMBASS'  
> as so many of you have been frustrated with his strange, unexplained avoidance behavior
> 
> And there's a timeline now! It's the new first chapter and it includes a suggested reading order as well!

The morning following is exhausting. Mentally exhausting, not physically, though the physical exertion would have been a welcome distraction from the needed seriousness. Ben is noticeably twitchy and it takes most of her concentration not to drop her smile as she's making breakfast. She still hasn't gotten used to his kitchen—worse now that she's been away so long—and the process of finding the correct pans and utensils is longer than necessary.

"I feel like we need to get everything laid out flat," she says as she places a mimosa in front of him. He looks terrible—red-rimmed eyes, untamable bedhead, and pale as a sheet.

"Everything?"

"Everything you want to talk about, yeah. You seemed genuinely upset last night."

"Because I am genuinely upset."

She sighs and sits across from him at the island. This would be as frustrating as sorting rice by grain size, wouldn't it? "Talk to me, I'm not a mind reader. And don't cushion it. You always cushion how you're feeling and it's never good for us."

He's quiet for a long moment, taking time to piece things together how he wants. "How seriously are you considering the position?"

"Pretty seriously, but you're going to try and change my mind, aren't you?"

"No, not change. I…" Another pause as he rakes his hands through his hair. "Where do you see yourself in five years' time?"

"Working hopefully, maybe travelling. Five years is a long way down the road."

"How about two?"

"Maybe still out in California after having finished my degree. We could get a place on the ocean—"

"No. If you're out there, I'm not with you."

"You can't make that sacrifice for me?"

His lips twitch, teeth barring so slightly. "Putting aside the fact that I am in _charge_ of an _entire department_ for one of the _largest_ aerospace firms on the east coast—putting _that_ aside—I will _not_ go out there. There's a reason I don't speak to Han, there's a reason I've never flown out to visit my mother. I'd do a lot of things for you, but what you're asking involves too many demons for me to handle."

"You don't have to go through that alone—"

"You're right, because I'm not doing it, period. I moved thousands and thousands of miles away for a reason." He throws his hands up. "And _now_ I'm frustrated and angry."

She groans when he stalks from the room. "Are you really going to just storm off? Like a child, Ben?"

"I need to cool down or I'll say something I regret," comes the response from the bedroom before the door shuts.

• • •

"Did he _really_ walk off like that? _Exactly_ like something out of the movies?"

It's been a week and Ben has yet to calm down. So Rey finds herself upside-down on Poe's square yellow couch, legs kicked over the back. Poe is next to her sitting in an equally stupid way. They're holding wine glasses but it's all pretty pointless—liquids are, in fact, affected by gravity.

"Exactly like that. He's been a real bitch about this recently."

"I thought it only came up after the wedding?"

"It's been an on and off thing since last May. I feel like…it's like he wants to tell me something, but every time he gets close, he loses his temper and holes up in one room or another."

"He never did grow out of his tantrum phase. What's it about this time?"

"California. It's always about California. He acts like his soul got possessed or something out there. Met up with the remaining members of the Manson family, had his innocence ripped from him—something that can't possibly be as bad as he's making it out to be."

Poe shifts, sitting up with his back to a square yellow arm. "Can I admit something to you?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"You know I grew up with Ben, right? That we were both navy brats moving from port to port every couple of years."

"Then you should know what he's going on about?"

"That's the thing—I don't."

Rey sits up now, knocking back half her wine. "What?"

"There's a two-year period where our parents weren't stationed near each other—his mom was a big wig back then and my folks were pilots so it was bound to happen. I left for our sophomore and junior years of high school. I left a rather cheerful, good-natured, good with people best friend behind and came back to find a tall, grim, friendless dark-eyed stranger in his place. He's not nearly as vicious anymore, but he never really recovered from whatever turned him into what I saw when I got home. There are glimpses of the old Ben in him, but he's a walking open wound."

"He doesn't seem—"

"He's very good at hiding things. He's wanted to marry you for a year now."

"Now you're just pulling things out of your ass."

"He was tanked when admitting that but I wouldn't dismiss it so quickly. You've never seen the way he looks at you when he knows you can't see him."

"Sure, what's that look like?"

"Unbearably lovesick."

That much was believable.

"But I don't know what ghosts he's keeping from you, and I suspect you won't either. You have the unfortunate luck of making the decision none of us ever want to be stuck with: which do you sacrifice, a potentially massive step forward in your career, or the potential love of your life?"

"He's not—"

"Can you picture a future without him?"

"…Not really." She sighs and pulls her knees close to her chest. "Do you think, if I pry, do you think he'll tell me anything?"

"You could try, but it has the potential to sour his glass mood. Or you could take the easy way out, stay here, and marry him in a few years if you want."

"But what if we break up? I'm—fuck, Poe, I'm _twenty-five_ , what if he dumps me for someone more mature?"

Poe's eyebrows come together before he laughs. " _God_."

"How is that funny?!"

"It's funny because _he's_ insecure and thinks you'll be the one to leave him for someone younger and less ready to settle down."

"I'm wondering if it's a good or bad thing that we both discuss our relationship issues with you."

"Little of both probably."

• • •

She's been staying at her place for a week and it's draining to be alone again. There are parts of Rey that would be completely on board with pulling up all roots and floating away to bigger and better things, with moving permanently to California and never looking back. There are other parts, though, that would wither in the constant sunlight.

Her whole life has been a lonely mess. After her parents died when she was still an infant, being raised by her grandfather wasn't the most comforting experience. She loved him, but he couldn't replace a mother and a father at the same time. And they always traveled, so she kept few friends before college. Even in school, she didn't socialize easily and clung helplessly to the first guy to give her attention—as well as the next three. Charlie was the most stable, but she hadn't set the highest bar for him to achieve.

It's that part of her, the lonely girl dragged from place to place, that wants to refuse moving ever again. Refuse doing anything more to skip across the country without so much as a pet to take along for the journey. And it's that part that loves Ben to the point of dependency. But she's not dependent, and she doesn't listen to the illogical fluttering of her hot-and-cold heart.

When did she fall harder, or deeper? When did the switch go from 'I love you' to 'my whole world is you'? She has to steady herself on the kitchen counter when the thought burbles up to the surface. When _had_ that happened? And why, _why_ did it happen? Now, of all times, why did she need to _fall in love?_ God, she's _so young_. There's so much of life left to explore and yet—

There's only him in front of her. Only him in her the future. His stupid grin that comes with a bad joke, the countless mornings they'll scramble around each other when late for work, a set of matching rings, hours and hours spent talking about everything and nothing all at once. Maybe even a house—a nice house, somewhere outside the city—with big sunny windows and parenting books scattered across the coffee table, the kitchen counter, and their nightstands. Maybe he'd stop loving her one day, or maybe she him. Or perhaps they'd fall deeper until there was no coming back, no hopes of ever loving another person as much, if ever loving after each other. Maybe he'd look good with gray hair and a timeless smirk.

It's humid but chilly when she leaves her apartment, the oncoming summer storm hissing across the water. It'll hit the island by the time she transfers from the B onto the 6, but fuck it, fuck it all; the sky can crack open and pour frogs on her head for all she cares. She has to see him. It's been a goddamn week and she has to _see him_.

She thanks whatever God above made him into a creature of habit because he's doing exactly the same thing he does every Tuesday night she's not around: watch baseball—passively unless of course the Sox are on, in which case he's _screaming_ insults at the television—and drown himself in bottles of wine. He doesn't seem to hear her come in the front door, only registering her presence when she's standing half-soaked next to the sofa.

She doesn't give him a chance to react. "Do you want to grow old with me?"

His eyes widen a fraction. "A week plus of radio silence and now this?"

"Do you, Ben Enormous-Asshole Solo, want to grow old with me?"

"Are _you_ proposing?"

"I'm asking a _question_ you're not answering."

"Will my answer impact your decision to take this job?"

"Yes."

"Then I'm not answering."

" _Ben_." She's in front of him now, dripping all over his sweatpants. "You can't just—shield me, or whatever you're doing. You can hide your past all you want, fine, I won't ask, but this is the _present_. And maybe the future if you get your act together. We're a _couple_. We're supposed to make decisions _together_. So you can't just keep things from me, especially not your wants, or your feelings."

"But you shouldn't be making you-centered decisions about what _I_ want. That's unfair to you."

"I will damn well decide what's fair and unfair to me, and you not _telling_ me things is unfair to me. So talk, you _insufferable_ asshole."

He cocks his head, eyes narrowed. "I don't want you to take the job. I don't want you to leave again. If it were socially acceptable, I'd keep you here to myself for days on end and do filthy, filthy things to you before letting you go back out in public. If I were more of a reclusive woodsman, I'd say we should run off upstate and live off the grid in a rustic cabin, away from everyone else, a place only for us. Do you see the problem with this?"

"The problem is you'd never be able to grow a proper lumberjack beard."

"No, the problem is I'm selfish. I'm _so_ selfish when it comes to you, and that bias shouldn't impact your decision. If you planned to be gone for another two or three years, I could say I'd wait for you, but what if someone slips up?"

"I _know_ I love you too much to do that—"

"It's not about love, it's about loneliness. I saw it in you when we first really interacted. I know you saw it in me, too. That's what makes me so needy for you, the fact that you're just as needy for my attention. This past year wasn't even a full year and it was still crippling. The second your plane left the ground, I felt like a part of me had been cut off." He stops and glares down at his hands, emotions in turmoil. "I am _disgusted_ by how weak you make me."

"Then maybe I should go—"

" _No_." His arms wrap like steel around one of her legs and he pushes his face into her rain-stained skin. "More than anything, I want to grow old with you. You're so beautiful now, but I want to watch you blossom until we're both wizened and hard of hearing. I hate that I'm no longer a sheet of ice because of you, but I wouldn't change anything in these past two and a half years. You make me feel like a teenager again and I hope to _fuck_ I'll snap out of this lovesick puppy dog phase, but I'm coming to the realization that I'll never stop being obnoxiously sappy around you."

This is…exactly as feared. "But you won't come with me…Are your childhood demons really that bad?"

"Do you remember the night last March when you found me sitting in the kitchen with all the lights off? When you came out of our room with my one signed baseball bat because you thought someone had broken in from all the rattling?"

"Vividly. That was the night I couldn't get you to talk or stop crying." Her fingers weave their way into his hair. "You just sat there silently with tears running down your face until the sun came up and you snapped right back into work mode."

"My therapist thinks that's been one of my milder episodes."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ben."

"I'm not bullshitting you when I say it's that bad, okay? I'm not. This isn't some ploy to avoid my mother, this is I _cannot go back there_ or I will turn into _that_ , or worse. I don't want you to watch me turn into that again."

She weighs her words carefully. This might be impulsive, but she hopes not to regret it. "I'll call Leia tomorrow to formally decline her offer."

"Rey, don't—"

"You're not the only one allowed to make sacrifices for the people they love."

He nods, his cheeks wet on her wet skin. "We could get a great big apartment with a better view over the river. Somewhere sunny."

"We have some other things to do before thinking about that."

"I'm trying to mentally pinch myself right now, to make sure I'm not dreaming." He pries himself from her, wiping guilty eyes with the back of a dry hand. "Do you want to watch the rest of the game with me?"

She settles into him easily, like she's known his body for years. She has known his body for years, and hopefully she'll continue to know it for decades to come. He's warm and doesn't seem to mind her hair dampening the white cotton of his t-shirt. He's a little sad as people go, a little frightened, but he's hers and she'll love him until they're nothing but dust.

"Do you think you'll look good with gray hair?" she asks into the skin of his chest when they're falling asleep.

"Haven't a clue. I think we'll have to wait and find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the motherfuck do I write after this one?
> 
> Also hey! I'm starting up finals next week on the 6th and won't be ending until the 13th, so I don't know how active I'll be between those dates!
> 
> And I just want to say you guys are the freaking best. I'm so happy to be able to take you on this rollercoaster of timelines and ~*FEELINGS*~ and I hope you're having as much fun (and pain) as I am!


	18. Domesticate the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic is how he would describe her taming of him. He wouldn't change their relationship for the world.
> 
> Rating: Mild  
> Tie-In: It's a direct continuation from the last one  
> Tags: domestic fluff, allusions to dark shit, Ben might actually be a reasonable person

It's not early when he snakes his way from the bedroom, his laptop cradled under his arm. He's usually okay with the fact that he sacrificed a separate office for an enormous room, but it's not helpful when he's being sneaky, like this morning.

The hour for his mother is 6am when he Facetimes her from the den, his computer on the coffee table, his too-long legs bent uncomfortably as he slouches, almost as if he's trying to hide himself, to make himself appear smaller.

Leia has curlers in her hair when she answers; already awake to start a far too early day. Ben himself should be at the office, should probably drive Rey home so she can put on fresh clothes before going into work. But he's on the couch, in pajamas, video calling his mother.

"All right, Ben," she says, starting to unravel her hair, "what cannot possibly wait this time?"

"I'm calling as a head's up, but you can't tell her."

"Have you persuaded my rising star not to take my offer?"

He sucks in a breath. He wouldn't put it like _that_. "She made the choice herself."

"Then why are you the one telling me this?"

"Because one, she's still asleep, and two, it's a preface for what I actually wanted to speak to you about."

Leia catches something either in his face or his actions and stops her routine. Hands down, hair half up, she eyes her son with a peculiar expression, head tilted slightly. "This is about to become a serious discussion, isn't it?"

"Did…how did marriage affect your and Han's relationship?"

"Are we back to calling your father _Han_ now?"

"He hasn't been my father in years."

This cuts her, he knows it does, and he wants to apologize, but he can't. Not after everything that's happened. Not after what he's done.

"If he's nothing to you, why is this important?"

"Because you've done all of this already and I'm treading my way through too nervous to let my feet touch the lakebed." He sighs and hunches over, feet on the floor, elbows on his knees. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to become him. I know you loved him, and I know it wasn't bad, not all the time, but I also know if I don't stop this fear from growing in the pit my stomach, I'll leave. I'll run off and escape my problems instead of working them out. I don't want to be afraid. I don't want to hurt her."

"Ben…" His mother's voice is soft, it's the voice she used when he was younger and the episodes weren't his fault, when it sounded like his head was being held several feet below water. The night terrors had him waking up in cold sweats in the middle of a room somewhere in the house, furniture tossed around, glass broken, and his mother at the room's edge, usually near a door, with her hands outstretched. Wanting to comfort her child but not wanting to put herself in danger, for he'd lash—she knew he'd lash, knew it from the seven stitches sewn into her arm at 3am the first time it happened.

She says his name again when he doesn't respond and he looks up from his hands. His mind feels fragile in the moment, like he's drifting back to that darkness he suffocated in for years. He swallows thickly, swallows down the emotions. "Yeah?"

"I think it's time for you to come home."

"I _can't_ , Mom. You know I can't."

"You don't want to run when it gets hard, right? Then you need to stop running from this. If you don't break this habit it'll eat you alive, just like it did your father."

"I feel like, like I'll crack, if I go back. Like I'm made of little splintered pieces of porcelain and my glue will melt if I come home and I'll be a broken doll."

"You owe it to yourself to overcome your demons."

"But it's so goddamn _hard_ , Mom. It's—"

"Kid, I've been alive longer than you. I know it's hard. I had some rough years trying to raise you by myself, but you came out okay. I dealt with my monsters head-on because nothing was more important to me than you. If she's what you care about most, you can't walk around like an open wound. You'll run, and you'll crush her."

Ben nods and scrubs at his face. A weak laugh finds its way into the air. "I called to ask you if you thought it would be ridiculous to dial up old man Kenobi and ask for his blessing."

"You've decided, then? Is that why she's going to decline the job?"

"I haven't decided, no. I think I should do it before I ask, just in case I ask. It's a huge choice to make."

"It's not the end of the world if it doesn't work out. Remember that."

"I don't want it to not work out. I don't want to have to do this all over again, especially when I…I love her, so much."

"Sweetie, no one _wants_ a relationship to fall apart, and I'm not saying it will. I'm only saying the world doesn't end if it doesn't work out."

"I know. You're right, I know."

"And if you want to decrease that chance, you have to fix yourself. Ben, it's time you come home."

"I'll think about it, okay? I have a lot of things to think about as of late."

"Do or don't, but don't half-ass this."

"I understand."

"I have to finish getting ready for work. I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Mom."

"And no, I don't think it's ridiculous to ask old Ben for his blessing. Get on his good side and she'll appreciate you more for it."

The call went dark and he sighed, settling back into the couch cushions. He'd have to go out there alone, if he were going to go. It wasn't worth the risk for Rey to accidentally see him _like that_ again. He hadn't been _like that_ in over ten years and he wasn't keen on reverting. No one around him save Leia knew what he was like, knew what he'd done, how he'd mishandled the stress. He's aware that no matter his decision, to go or not go, the nightmares will start again. He hopes the night terrors won't crawl their way back out of hell, but there's no guarantee.

He ruminates long enough for the hour to chime ten on Fibonacci spiral wall clock that hung in the kitchen. It was last year's Christmas present from Rey.

 _"It's one of the most ridiculously difficult things to read, so naturally I thought of you_ ," she had said.

_"I hate it."_

She laughed. _"I knew you would."_

Ben rises slowly, stepping around the coffee table and through the kitchen back to his room. He almost felt like calling it _their_ room she was over so often. She is sound asleep under all the blankets, the central air in the apartment cranked nearly to full blast. He runs far hotter than she and sleeping beside one another gets less comfortable as summer progresses. They never stay at her place after mid-May.

Rey isn't an attractive sleeper, her limbs either condensed or contorted, her face usually buried in bedding or pillows. Oh, and she snores, but only a little. Doesn't matter though, he still loves her all the same. Still kisses her cheeks until she stirs and sleepily reaches out to him, to pull him down beside her.

"Sunshine, as much as I love cuddling with you, it is a Wednesday and we do have jobs to do."

"Shit." She springs awake. " _Shit._ Why didn't you get me up?"

"I called in already, your supervisor knows you'll be in late with my approval."

"Shit, Ben, Taylor usually assumes that means we were _fucking_." She's scrambling now, looking for clothes, rifling through the drawer he cleared out for her years ago.

"But that's never been a reason we've been late."

"Yeah, but the _office_ doesn't know that." She swears loudly, denim shirt bunched in her hands. "I have to shower. You have to shower too, don't you?"

He rolls his eyes and takes her by the wrist. "Come on, it's not like I've never seen you _naked_ ," he huffs when she protests.

"This isn't time effective."

"You could go first and leave before me."

"I'm not taking the subway in _slacks_ if I don't have to, it's eighty-something degrees outside."

"Then get in."

The water is hot and the shower is a little cramped, neither of them quite fully under or fully out of the spray. She lets him lather shampoo into her hair as she continues on her tirade, more miffed than she should be.

"Sunshine, we're not a _super corporate-styled_ company. As long as your hours get done, Taylor's not going to mind that you're in an hour late."

"He's a gossip queen, Ben. We're one of his favorite things to talk about."

"We've been the center of a _lot_ of interdepartmental gossip since this all _started_. You work with a bunch of people for five years always acting like a hard ass and then one day they realize you're not actually a well-disguised dragon in a person suit."

"They think you're either a total prude or into some incredibly freaky shit."

"One of those is a little right."

"More than a little."

He kisses her, the sensation akin to being underwater. Not something he's terribly fond of. "I can prove it later tonight if you want."

"After I run you around the place for making me _late!_ "

He shaves while she puts minimal makeup on her face. They're side by side at the wide countertop. His shoulder brushes hers and sparks run up his arms, sparks that have been relatively quiet since the initial puppy love wore away. He feels warmer to be near her, fuzzy almost. His mind begins to run with trains rushing towards different scenarios, moments in a near, far, or impossible future, he's not sure. Day after day spent beside her like this, doing the simplest things like getting ready in the morning, working in separate offices in a bigger apartment—or a house, somewhere with sunlight—but able to call down the hall to one another. Gardening, cooking, existing—together, side-by-side. His shoulders ache from the epiphany.

Ben wipes foam from his face and turns to her. She's smiling up at him, finally done ranting, finally exhausted enough to forgive him. He kisses her soundly, lacing his fingers with hers.

"I love you, Sunshine."

"I know you do, you huge cheeseball."

He chuckles and squeezes her hand. "Almost ready to go?"

"Just about, yeah."

The drive is slower than he'd like it to be, mid-morning traffic clogging up Park. He's not sure why he went this way, if the slamming into minor gridlock was subconsciously intentional or not.

"What do you want for dinner tonight?" he asks to pass the time.

"I thought I might go home and get some work done for the one online class I'm taking."

"Could I stay the night with you, then?"

"I don't have real A/C, remember?"

"I know, but…" He takes one of her hands in his, eyes not flickering from the traffic. "Going a week without you was rough. Besides, we have to make up for all those nights we missed when you were in California."

"I need to actually do work, not start doing work and then have you hover over me and kiss my neck until I come to bed with you because you can't tame your sex drive."

"I only want to sleep beside you tonight, nothing more."

"I'll think about it."

That was Reyspeak for yes.

He drops her at the front of the building, only giving up her hand when she kisses him goodbye. When he pulls into his parking space he thinks maybe, maybe he should take up Leia's offer. If not, he'll get dangerously close to buying a ring, and he can't have that just yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little short, but I wanted to get something out. I'm free of classes until July now! Hurray!
> 
> I also want to let all you lovelies know I appreciate all your comments and nice words and general putting up with the weird order of this story.  
> Also shout out to people who keep recc'ing this mess on tumblr! I'm thrown into flattered blushing each time it happens.  
> You will almost certainly have trouble finding me on there, but I lurk. Oh, I lurk.


	19. I Can't Take This Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does a very Ben thing and leaves without a word. He does a very Ben thing and he's being eaten alive.
> 
> Rating: Explicit  
> Additional: Things are getting...nasty. Head's up.  
> Tie-In: The past few are all in order

Rey grumbles into her dark and stormy as the summer humidity falls like a wet blanket across her skin. Finn comes to sit down beside her, his own drink cradled against his forehead. It is _hot_ , and for whatever reason, they are sitting on Poe's balcony instead of the couches inside. She takes a long sip, staring out across the city at the burning sun as it descends. The windows of the buildings look to be on fire and it suits her mood.

"I just can't _believe_ him," she mutters for what has to be the tenth time that evening.

"I can."

"Yeah, but the two of you still aren't on the best terms." It's been almost three years, what was up with that? "Now me, I'm on _great_ terms, and I _cannot_ believe him."

"Doesn't he do this a lot? Aren't you always complaining he does things without telling you?"

"Never like this!" She throws her hands up, exasperated. "He's never _left_ with a pitifully short note and a date he'll be home. It's like he thinks going across the country is the equivalent of rounding the corner for milk."

"He's not the brightest."

"He has a Ph.D from MIT."

" _Socially_. I'm not saying Ben isn't brilliant, I'm just saying he's…stupid."

Poe pops his head against the screen door. "Ben is an idiot, Rey."

"But _this bad?_ We've been dating almost three years and he's never done anything _this bad_."

There's a sigh and Poe joins them on the balcony, tray of food placed on the glass table between then. "If he left a note without a word, I suspect he's going to see Leia. If he's _actively_ flying out to see Leia, it means he's finally going to do what we've all been pressuring him to for about, oh, a _decade_." He settles down in the chair between them. "If he's sorting himself out, he doesn't want you there."

Ouch, that stings. Rey frowns and clears another fourth of her drink. "Why wouldn't he want me there with him? Am I…super uncomforting or something?"

"If I had to guess, it's more likely he doesn't want you to watch him fall apart. Because he's going to. If I've garnered anything from Leia's vague mentions of this, it's bad, Rey. It's really bad."

But she wanted to be there for him. Help him. That's what they were supposed to do, right? Support each other? Or had she been reading this relationship wrong from the start.

"Have you tried calling?" Finn asks.

"Phone's off or he's ignoring me."

"Should we beat him up when he gets back?"

"Probably."

 

It's strange, she decides as she sinks down into his bed. It's so strange. Three nights ago he was here, now she's alone in his bed. When she closes her eyes, she can see the evening before his departure, can feel the same amount of satisfaction she'd gotten, the best sex they'd had since the start of this…could it be called a fight? She wasn't sure.

 

It started after dinner, a late call and a car in front of her place. She had been busy with more work—she was _always_ drowning in work, some things never changed. She went out anyway, climbed into the passenger's seat and accepted a deep heated kiss from him, a kiss that felt like he'd missed her for millennia when in reality it was only a day and a half. She leaned into him the whole way up the elevator from the garage to his floor, her back pressed to his front.

This was the man. This was the one she with which she wanted to spend her eternity. He wanted that, too, his arms tight around her waist. She loved him so much, God, it hurt her chest to dwell on it. She took his hand so readily when he drew her into his apartment, his fingers never leaving her for the rest of the night. Pressing her to the door, he kissed languidly, a slow-burning fire being lit in her chest. His hands on her hips, he encouraged her to move to an unhurried beat, music drifting somewhere above their heads. She let him, _God_ ; she let him lead her in a dance. She didn't dance, but his dark eyes were mesmerizingly deep, hungry in the gentlest way she'd ever seen, and she gave herself up to him. Up to this beautiful creature, _her_ beautiful creature.

He dipped his head to the crook of her neck, pressed her into his body so firmly there wasn't room to breathe. One hand under her arm, the other around her waist, she followed his steps, relishing in the way his lips nibbled across her skin. She carded her hands through his hair and he rose, pouring his starvation into her eyes before moving to kiss her. Slow, steady, and hungry. A kind of hunger that would wait in quiet until it was allowed to feast its fill. Her spine shivered, quivered like moth wings.

Wordlessly, he untangled himself and drew her forward to the bedroom, his fingers squeezing hers. He guided her down, down onto the sheets, removing her shorts with no rush, kissing her thighs and knees as they cleared her skin. He suckled at her clit over her panties for a brief moment before pulling them to one side, dipping his tongue to taste her. At the sound of her first hum, he removed them with his teeth, a hand remaining at her clit to rub torturously slow circles and shapes.

His mouth was hot when he returned to her, spreading her legs wide on the edge of the bed. She'd missed him. Not for this—not for the head—but for the feelings behind it. She could feel his affection with each lave of his tongue. He was so _slow_ with her that night, moving so one of his fingers could stroke her inside, curling against the one of the spots inside that made her unravel. Her fingers knotted into his hair, she came with a low groan, her legs locked over his shoulders.

He rose when she finished, picking her out of her shirt and bra. She fumbled with his, the light cotton sliding through her trembling fingers. His smile was endearing as he caught her hands, kissing them before shucking the shirt and tossing it away. She reached for him when his boxer briefs met the carpet but he shook his head, pushing her hands into the sheets. There was some silent agreement not to speak tonight, not a word having been uttered yet. She wanted to ask, but kept quiet, shifting how he dictated. She went up on her knees and he urged her to sit over his face, pushing her hips down until he could reach her with his mouth.

She nearly fell forward onto her hands, making an incredible effort to stay upright as his hands circled and squeezed her ass. His lips were warm as they hummed and sucked at her, tongue licking slow lines where wetness had stuck to her lips and thighs. She didn't last very long the second time, finding herself pressed onto her back in the middle of her orgasm. He went right back down, fingers seeking her pleasure as her muscles contracted and white nothingness threatened to overtake her vision.

His body heat disappeared from between her legs a short moment, returning with a pale blue vibrator—her second favorite, beat out only by the internal black silicone daydream. He gave her a wicked grin before pressing it to her clit, wet fingers nudging back inside, ruining her in two places at once. Her brain wasn't present, had left to sip mimosas on some gorgeous white sand beach. Waves of the gentle ocean over her toes quickly became his tongue, tickling between her lips.

She must have been soaked by the time he had her singing for him the fourth time. He pulled her to him, harder than imaginable, and—oh, he had the black one, was sliding it inside of her. She wasn't going to walk properly in the morning. His hands sticky, he ran his fingers up her slit, gathering her wetness to rub on his tip.

Vibrator on, he plunged in, giving a low groan. He was so _hard_ inside her, so _hot_. He stretched her pleasantly and she hummed, reaching up for him. With a cocked eyebrow, he lowered himself, letting her wrap her jelly legs around his waist. His thrusts were deep, languid, and heady, punctuating her walls with thrumming pleasure. He kissed hotly when she bucked her hips into him, his mouth dry and tasting of her. She drove her tongue into his mouth, her flavor overwhelming, salty, and musky. He bit her lip when she went too quickly, stopping his hips until she relaxed under him. His eyes warned not to lead, that this was his dance tonight. She nodded, sliding her hands down his sides, urging him to start again. She'd be good; she promised she'd be good.

Breathing became shallow and he moved to kiss her neck, his body hovering as closely to hers as possible. Sweat was thick in his hair as she tangled it up further, pushing it from his forehead. She looked up into his eyes, watching the affection and contentedness flit over his face, a loving smile growing on his lips. He pressed his forehead to hers and she came, vibrator pulsing, searing her insides. He kissed her through his, quickening his pace to finish with her.

His groan was heavenly, especially from a man who was quieter than not when he lay with her. Very few situations could make him sound this way and it made heat blossom hot and fiery in her ribs, that he was so lost to passion he let go of his self-control.

He fell back beside her, their heads at the foot of the bed. She fished the toy from herself and clicked it off, dropping it onto a towel beside its friend. Her back was sticky, body throbbing. They hadn't done anything that exciting in months. Sweaty all over but hungry for his skin, she curled her way onto his chest, throwing a leg over his hips. He chuckled and turned his head down to hers, breath warm against her forehead. She drifted easily to sleep at the wrong end of the bed.

In the morning he was gone. Not a trace of last night remained aside from the sticky gooey mess between her thighs and the distinct musky smell of sex and sweat. Confused, she wandered into the kitchen, dragging the sheets with her as she went. A small wrapped box sat on the counter, its corner holding down a note with his spidery cursive.

_I've business to attend with my mother and I have to go alone. I'll be back on Sunday; you're welcome to stay until then, though the bed might be lonely without me. Don't open the box until Saturday night._

_All my love, Sunshine_

Stone sunk down in her stomach. Not a word last night and not a Ben in the morning. She tried calling more than once, sent a few texts and one email only to garner no response, falling asleep with her phone cradled to her chest.

• • •

In a bleak darkness, Ben trudges through a house he once knew in an atmosphere that feels like gelatin on his skin. He is fourteen again, his knuckles bruised and throat hot. The voice—the one he'd tried so hard to forget, to erase—calls calmly from rooms away. He doesn't want to approach, never wants to see _that_ man again, but his feet disobey. He wanders, unable to move himself from the path, from this long-forgotten memory. His ribs still ache from the blossoming bruise, the one that he should have recognized as a break. Cracked and bleeding inside, his breathing is painful.

All these hurts. He knows if he continues to the room, to _that_ man, he'll come away with a new scar, but he can't leave. He can't avoid this, no matter how much he wants to, or _that_ man will hurt his mother, hurt someone else he cares about. He can't let that happen, so he goes.

He has bite marks on his back. They're from a dog, from a big black beast whose owner will never call it off. They sting, the wound only just having healed over. He'd press charges if it didn't mean admitting to this, to what he was doing—that would only endanger his parents. He can't do that to Han or Leia, he can't let anything hurt them. He has to be strong.

He remembers, though, the way Han wrote off his bloody noses and black eyes as boys roughhousing, no matter how many times he said it wasn't that, it was worse, God, _God_ , it was worse. But his father never listened. Never reached out to save his bleeding boy.

The tire iron comes down on his bruised rib and he screams.

 

Ben bolts awake, immediately reaching across the bed for Rey, to pull her closer to his chest and bury his fears in her soothing love and smooth skin. But all his arm catches is a pillow, his hand nearing the edge of his childhood bed.

He left her behind, left her in the dark so she wouldn't see him break down again. He left her thousands of miles away and is stuck in a tornado of hurt without an ounce of comfort to dull the ache. He bites the inside of his cheek and rolls over, trying in vain to calm himself down.

He has to do this, though. Has to do this alone.

God, he hopes this is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor kid.
> 
> I really love The Producers, guys. Many different Herrings.  
> *snickers*


	20. Slow Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days were fast, others were slow, and she treasured the slow ones most of all.
> 
> Rating: T  
> Timeline: You'll see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for the length...

It’s not what she expects at first. They’re in a serious relationship—she, Rey Kenobi, is in a _serious relationship_ —and it’s _fantastic_. She knows she has someone waiting for her when she goes home (though it’s his home, not hers), knows food will be prepared and it will always be delicious, and she knows, when the lights go out and they cuddle close under the covers, someone she cares about very much loves her more than she could ever deserve or hope to be loved. And he’s every degree of marvelous she can list, from his playful honey-brown eyes to his peculiar obsession with never wearing the same shoes twice in one week. And he loves her. He loves _her_. The brilliant physicist on the twelfth floor with the hot temper, bad reputation, and tender heart loves _her._

And she couldn’t be happier.

But it’s not what she expects. She’s been in relationships before, but none had ever made it past the year mark. She and Ben have been together for two months past it and she can’t see them ending anytime soon. She can’t say she pictured it quite like this, however.

Not all days are fast. Some days, she gets up in her tiny apartment and wanders through her tiny kitchen for breakfast before catching the train into Manhattan. Exhausted, she waves to Finn, drops her bag at her desk, and plows through work, barely registering the day until it’s after ten and she needs to shift her attention to homework. Back at her apartment, she’ll have gone the whole day without seeing Ben, without speaking to Ben, and without remembering Ben exists, not a text passed between them.

Other days, she’ll wake up in his bed and go with him to work. They’ll kiss when she departs downstairs to the labs and they’ll kiss again when she takes lunch with him, strolling hand in hand to a little sub shop she adores to pieces. Some of these days she’ll visit his office at lunchtime and he’ll have her instead of whatever food he packed, sitting her at the edge of his desk and kneeling, his mouth between her parted legs. Those days happen less frequently after they’d gotten walked in on, but she holds them dear to her nonetheless. When she gets out of her shift, he takes her and his projects home, cooks her dinner, and they climb back into bed, ending the day as it started.

The best days are slow.

Her favorite weekends aren’t the ones filled to the brim with debauchery and piercing white orgasms, but ones where she lays on his bed in her lounge pants and a book, reading while he scribbles away at his desk, equations and ideas pooling around his hands before the day is out. When he calls it a night, he flops down beside her and worms his way under her book to lay his head on her chest, persuading her to order takeout from one of the menus in the kitchen. She’s always surprised he eats takeout.

Maybe they’ll watch a movie, maybe they’ll go straight to bed—it doesn’t matter, since she only minds sleeping alone. Some nights she does, her back in the center of his huge plush bed while his legs barely make it onto the sofa in the den. She hates these nights, mostly because she’s never the one banishing him—he likes to wallow and take pity on himself and his angry pride will never let him come crawling back until morning. A few times she goes to sleep beside him, getting all twisted and tangled on the too-small couch. He mostly laughs and they fall to the floor in tickle fights. Occasionally, he’ll push her away, cross as the stars, and huff to his room, locking both doors. She hates those nights.

They almost never get enough free time to do anything exciting. Other couples take weekend trips. She and Ben hunch together in the American Museum’s planetarium and brainstorm ways to get to Pluto—not that anyone would ever want to. He likes to tickle her sides in public and grin like a child, his behavior juxtaposing his pristinely tailored suits and sharp-tipped shoes. He’s so beautiful, she thinks too often. He’s so good to her. She loves him so much.

That confession—expression—is mostly amplified in her gestures on the slow days. They don’t buy each other much, but he’s sure to always touch her when she’s around—on the arm, the cheek, the small of her back—and she brings him trinkets, little useless tchotchkes she picks up everywhere she sees—the bottom of her desk drawer, discarded plastic children’s rings, marbles that had been hiding under her bed—and he thinks they’re ridiculous but he loves them. He has a growing pile next to the sea glass on his bookshelf. He’s bought her exactly one necklace (it’s small, gold, understated, and has a small amber sun for a charm) and she’s bought him exactly one book ( _The Mother Tongue_ by Bryson, as she hadn’t stopped thinking of it when he mentioned he harbored a fierce fascination with etymology). For her past birthday, he took her out to dinner and kissed her silly when they got home, kept kissing and kissing until they were too sleepy to continue, because that’s all she wanted—his kisses, his closeness. They had wild sex on his birthday, but hers was intimate, sweet, and gentle.

Rain is her next favorite of the slow days, but not when she gets caught out in the deluge. From his apartment, they can watch as midtown Manhattan gets covered with a downpour from the bed, tucked under the covers with hazelnut coffee to warm their hands. As a child, she used to run around in the thunderstorms, screaming with laughter as her grandfather called her back to shelter. Now, she lies with her back against Ben’s chest as the water pours from the sky, the soft pelting of raindrops filling the air. Wrapped tightly in his big arms, she’s never felt more at home. He smells like damp alpine forests and salt from the ocean and she loves every second of being in his presence, even when he’s mad with her.

It takes her too long to convince him to come out drinking with her friends, his face awkward and flushed at the thought. He doesn’t think they’ll like him—thinks he’s known as some gruesome creature from the Lesser Key of Solomon, something that spit fire and reigned hell with might. She knows better—knows he has a soft heart between his ribs and love under his eyelids. He’ll do nearly anything for her if she asks, but not everything. He agrees to do this, following along like a nervous shadow. She thinks it’s silly how worried he is, but she soothes his nerves and squeezes his hand under the table until he starts to open up. He blossoms like an orchid and he’s so dazzling to watch that sometimes it hurts her eyes. It would be foolish to think she could have ever doubted her ability to fall in love with him.

He is a gentle thing mostly, but he hides his wounds well. She ignores the scars on his body, has done so since she made the mistake of running her fingers along one only to watch him freeze, terror caught on his face. She’s never asked, never plans to. They clearly hurt him worse than he can admit and she can wait until he’s ready. She’s in no hurry, especially when it seems they’ve got the rest of time ahead of them.

Ben genuinely laughs at a joke made by Jerry in fuel technology and she knows it’s going to be a good evening—the two of them have never gotten along. She beams up at him, almost certain she has stars in the place of pupils, all her love for him leaking disgustingly from her face. He grins back, pulling her hand to rest on his thigh, stroking the back with his thumb. He comes out with her more after that, eventually getting bold enough to snake his arm around her waist and pull her close. Niamh across the table winks at her and she blushes until she’s redder than rhubarb. It’s one thing that Ben knows she loves him; it’s another that people around them notice immediately, know exactly how much they flourish in each other’s company.

On their slowest day, the one where they do nothing but kiss and sleep—a day after a long exhausting night of work until what must have been four in the morning—they lay on their backs after the moon rises, fingers laced and shoulders touching. She knows, as she listens to the sound of his breathing, that there is nowhere else on this great green and blue planet she would rather be than beside him.

* * *

“Rey?”

It’s two in the morning when her reminiscing gets interrupted, her brain only partially awake in the thick darkness. She’s lying in his bed, finally understanding why he has ten million pillows (they’re to comfort him when she’s not there, sort of the reverse of what she’s doing), and her phone rings loudly enough that she’s startled partway awake. His voice is honey to her ears.

“Hey there, love. It’s really late.”

He swears. “Did I wake you? You can go back to sleep—”

“No, no. I’m here now; it’s been four days since I’ve heard your voice so I want to be awake for it. What’s up?”

“I don’t want to sound like a lunatic, but I’m…I’m having a really awful night. I don't want to sleep—”

“Why not?”

He pauses, the line silent a moment. “I’ll have to tell you about it later, thinking about it now is making my hands shake.”

She sits up. “Ben. What’s wrong?”

“I _can’t_ talk about it now, Sunshine. It’ll make it worse. I just…I need you to stay on the line with me if you can.”

She’d deal with her frustration in the morning. “Whatever you need.”

“Could you tell me a story? To take my mind off things? The kind I tell you when you’re dreamy-sleepy with your face buried in my neck.”

“Once upon a time,” she started, allowing herself a small smile, “there was a girl named Rey, and she fell in love with a lonely prince called Ben.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little short and pretty teasing but it's happyyyyyy  
> Sort of.
> 
> Anyone reading FA knows this already, but I made a blog for my writing stuff that's going to be mostly a lot of character and mood related pictures with some previews and, I don't know, I'm working on it. You can find it [here](http://saloontime.tumblr.com/) if you so please, or join me on my main for shitposts galore (but you have to find that for yourself).


	21. In the House of Broken Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was it. The start of the end. The last monster to fight.
> 
> Rating: Explicit? Mature? I don't know, but this is the tip of the iceberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet holy Christ please READ THE WARNINGS HERE before proceeding, because the next half of this part is going to get worse.  
> Nothing is too graphic but here we have mentions of:
> 
> Forced drug use  
> Child abuse (kind of???)  
> Drug trafficking/mules  
> Grooming, but not the pedophile kind  
> Blood! Why is there so much dried blood!?!?
> 
> And general that sort of nastiness. I wanted to stay somewhat near the whole "Snoke grooms Ben until he turns into Kylo" theme but my GOD this was not what I expected to write.
> 
>  
> 
> **There is a summary in the end notes for the icky parts because I know you guys didn't sign on for this and I'm gladly giving a loophole to avoid the potentially triggering parts. The first three sections of this chapter are harmless, the last two are not.**

Ben stares into his oatmeal like he's looking through time, can see all the cosmos comes together at the start of the universe. He can't take his eyes off the soupy goop, can't drag his gaze away long enough to fetch his spoon. He cannot believe he's here, staring into an old plastic Winnie-the-Pooh bowl saved over from childhood, one of those things his mother could never throw out. His childhood home, his biggest nightmare, and he's back for a haunting.

"Have you figured out how to eat without actually moving your mouth?"

Leia is getting ready for work with no rush in her routine, still in her dressing gown and makeup yet to go on her face. She has a toothbrush in one hand.

"Is Han coming home soon?"

"He's your _father_ , Ben. Imagine what I'd do if you called _me_ by my first name." She cocks a hip, giving him a stern look that makes him forget she's rather short. "No, not that I know of. But then he's notorious for never giving a warning."

"Will you let me know if he comes home and I'm out?"

"And what are you going to do? Or go? Do you have any _friends_ in the area still, or are you going to hop a plane home and call it quits _again_?"

"I'm not running away. I'm not going back to her until this gets resolved."

"With the rate you're going, you'll be here for another year."

He grumbles, but doesn't retort. She's right—he's still dragging his feet. "I might need you to do something for me."

She sighs. "Is it illegal?"

"It _might_ be."

"Ben, I'm a _federal_ employee—"

"I'm not asking you to _commit murder_. I might just need to break into a house."

"Ah, breaking and entering, one of my favorite pastimes."

"I don't think anyone's living there at the moment."

"As much as you want that to change the law, the police aren't going to see it the same way."

" _Mom_." He can feel the cracking need in his voice. "Please. I need to do this."

"If I have to bail you out, I'm going to be pissed."

* * *

Leia manages to get all the way to work before there's a frantic call on her personal phone. Ben's been here five days now and she's more than surprised by the amount of time it's taken for her to call.

"Is he with you?"

Rey doesn't open with a good morning, or a hello, just a broken-toned plea. She should have _known_ her idiot boy would vanish in a puff of smoke—it was a specialty of his.

"He's here, yes."

There's a long sigh of relief. "Thank _god_. I was worried he'd disappeared into the mountains."

"I wouldn't put it past him still. He looked flighty this morning." These were not the right words to say. "He's determined not to bolt this time. Consider yourself lucky—and important—because he's run out on me too many times to count."

"But you don't think he will, right?"

"I can't make any promises. At this point, while I know my son well, I think you know who he's changed into better than I."

"Don't say that."

"I don't live with him anymore—you do. So, do you think he's going to run?"

"I haven't a clue." Her voice sounds defeated, a little frightened. "I didn't really know anything was _wrong_ until a few weeks ago, and even then, it wasn't much information."

"Have some faith. I'll kick his ass for not telling you."

"Thank you."

* * *

Rey tosses her phone on her desk and heaves an enormous sigh.

"What's he doing this time?"

Phasma's blonde hair comes into view like a spotlight, causing Rey to cringe.

"Headed for the hills, barely left a note, won't communicate. Did he give notice?"

She snorts. "Barely. The Chair of Engineering got a six-hour warning. If he weren't understanding and Ben weren't carrying half the upper chain of command on his back, he'd be out on his ass at this point."

"I was under the impression he used to do this a lot."

" _Used_ to. Got a fair number of warnings about it. The next time he was supposed to get fired, but whatever sob story he gave Gene got eaten up like Halloween candy."

"I don't think it's a sob story. I think it's _The_ Story."

"Dark broody boy's dark broody past?"

"Did he ever mention it to you?"

"No." She flits through something on her phone. "He never bothered, I never asked. Our relationship wasn't as deep as yours is."

"So no one knows what happened?"

Phasma sighs. "No, unfortunately, there's no one person I can point you to who'll calm your nerves. Leia knows but she won't say. Han might know, but you'll never find him. Poe has his suspicions, Hux and I know jack all."

"And I know jack all too."

"Talk to Poe, away from prying ears. He might give up something more."

She knocks on his door during her lunch break, hoping to the dear heavens that he may have a little more information than he gave on Monday.

"About the Ben thing," she starts, closing his door behind her.

"The Ben Runs Away thing or the Ben Has Skeletons in His Closet thing?"

"Second one, probably, because I know he's got some horrible escapism tendencies."

"The less fun Ben thing." Poe puts down his wrap and turns his attention to her fully. "I have more speculations than anything, are you _sure_ you want to hear them?"

"I have to prepare myself somehow, don't I? When he gets back, I have to be able to _deal_ with that."

"Scoot closer, this is going to take a while."

* * *

The house is still the same eggshell white it was in his childhood. Paint is peeling off the Victorian porch, coming off like sloughed skin, flaking to the ground in unruly sheets. The morning is cold, damp, and foggy, threatening rain in the afternoon. Windows have been boarded up, faded caution tape stretched across the door. The steps leading up are cracked concrete and splintered wood. The bannister is missing.

He wears a dust mask, carries a switchblade in his pocket, and has a rubber mallet in his hands. He hopes to the heavens there's not some idiot with a gun inside, or a heroin den. The _last_ thing he wants to deal with is another _heroin den_.

Getting the door open is easy. This is the bad side of town, not a soul would bat an eye to his _clearly_ law abiding citizenship. He could go through the storm doors 'round back, but something about entering the basement from daylight again makes his sweat run cold.

The blood in the hallway still has yet to be cleaned up. It's a rusted dirty brown now, splotched in a splattered pattern. He doesn't remember much of watching that happen, but goosebumps crawl up his arms nonetheless. The carpets are covered in mildew. It's almost as if he can _feel_ the mold spores taking hold in his lungs. They're disgusting, nostalgic, and make him cough, even with the mask.

He steps around the needles in the drawing room, steps away from the memory they hold. He'd never been stuck with them, but one of the other kids was—he didn't come back the same. When they drugged him, they used pills. Kind of strange to drug the mule, but then again, _that man's_ punishments were never conventional. Or understandable.

Xanax. Rohypnol. Other benzos he didn't remember the names of. Barbiturates once or twice. It was _incredible_ how long it took his parents to notice.

But then again, they were never home.

He sees the dog bowl and does not resist the urge to send it flying across the room with the toe of his boot. _Fuck_ that dog. Fuck that dog and fuck the scar over his ribs. One of many injuries, but the bites from the _fucking dog_ were always the worst. They got infected, his bandages bled through, and he could never stand upright without wincing. Wincing got the whip.

It was a fucking _wonder_ that he's managed to keep the composure of a normal human all these years. He figures he's channeled his pain and humiliation into studies, the only reason he was ever any good in school after all this blew apart.

He takes a breath to steady himself. That's right. He's successful now. He managed to get his doctorate without snapping and becoming something violent, something they were grooming him to be. He has a stable job. Doesn't do drugs (the thought alone makes him violently ill), and has friends. Has a girlfriend that cares about him _so much_ , who loves him even though he's come from…this.

…But she doesn't know he comes from _this_.

Doesn't know the type of _beast_ they were training him to be.

Would that change how she feels?

 _No_ , says the rational side. _She loves you either way_.

But irrationality has a nasty way of overpowering logic.

He cuts out the thoughts for now, will deal with them once he's out of the house. He's not even sure he's _alone_ in here, would hate to get distracted long enough to find out in an ugly way that he's _not_. Best-case scenario, they'll be either hopped up or in-withdrawal junkies—nothing he's unfamiliar with. Worst-case, shadows from his past come crawling out of the woodwork to take him back into that world of torture.

His grip tightens on the mallet. He wishes to the heavens his mother owned a gun.

His choices, after mulling too long in the green-carpeted sunroom, are up and down. Upstairs is lit from the windows, but there are fewer places to escape if he's cornered. Downstairs is dark, moldy, and more likely to contain people hiding out in this abandoned house. But downstairs he knows like the freckles on Rey's shoulders, knows every small hiding place and hidden room. He knows where they stashed the meth when it came in every third month.

He shivers, remembering the kids who were body mules, remembers their screams during extraction, deep in the one room he'd never dared to explore. His head was too pretty for that; he was too valuable to be treated like a human suitcase. _That man_ wanted him to follow after, take _his_ place when he finally kicked it.

 _You're bright, Benny_ , he'd say in that _awful_ tone, the sickening one that had thrown up the first red flag. _I know you won't disappoint me_.

Of course he wouldn't—not when his parents' lives were being threatened. Instead, they taught him, groomed him, and punished where they found necessary. It's a miracle that his liver still works.

It's a miracle that he's still sane.

But just _barely_.

Determination inches up his spine and he turns to the stairs, preferring to ascend into light than descend into darkness and lingering death. They kept a room up here for him on the weekends, the ones where both his parents would be out of town. He walks by the door without a second glance, already knowing how much broken glass littered the floor.

It's getting more difficult to suppress the emotions now, to bury and hide everything he'd cut off since this period. He was becoming less numb, and by that assumption, soon he would need to leave or face a horrible breakdown. He'd be alone out here. He'd hurt any passerby that stumbled into his path. He had less than a half hour before he needed to leave.

No basement today. In earnest, he hoped no basement _ever_ , but he had to do this. Had to finish this catharsis, and that meant coming back. The bathtub still had caked rusty stains around the faucet and drain. He'd asked about it once when he was being held here and received a black eye—it was blood, there was no doubt now that it was blood. Every questionable stain had a dark history in this house.

He thinks of her when he gets to the door of the office. Imagines her smile, the warmth of her touch, and the sincerity of her love. He pictures her face as she laughs, how her nose scrunches and the tiny summer freckles obscure. She's the reason he's here. Wanting to stay with her means driving out his demons, and by whatever God above, he wanted nothing more than to have her. He'd get through this. He'd make it out of here a better man, or at least a less broken one. Someone more understanding and accepting of the past—no longer pretending it didn't exist.

With a gloved hand, he pushes open the door.

* * *

Rey has tears in her eyes by the time she's on a video call with Leia. The picture barely crackles into view and she's already crying, huddled in the nest she's made in Ben's bed. The more pillows and blankets, the more she can distract herself from the thorns of the outside world.

"Has something happened?"

"Poe…Poe told me what he thinks happened to Ben. I…was he really…?"

"Taken behind our backs without us even noticing he wasn't all there." Leia sighs, puts her head in her hands, and lets her shoulders fall. "There's a reason his father doesn't come home much anymore. We can't look at each other without… _remembering_ what happened to our boy. Remembering how helpless he must have felt, how _long_ it took us to listen or realize something was gravely wrong."

"Was it a drug ring?"

"It was a little bit more fucked up than that," Leia bites out, the words harsh like sharp iron in the air. "I feel _disgusted_ to think about what that man did to our son."

"How is he still…okay?"

"He's not. He's been a shell for years. Opened once to Greta, shut down after. Opened again to you, might actually have a shot at healing. You are, in truth, one of the best things that's happened to him as of late. I spoke to him the other morning, before he came out here, and I don't think I've seen him that happy since he was eight."

"That's so… _depressing_ to think about."

"The whole damn thing is depressing. And enraging. I wish I'd gotten my hands on that _monster_ myself."

Rey nods and wipes fallen tears from her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"It's over now. He's alive. That's all I could ask for."

Her too. He was also one of the best things she'd stumbled into. One of few things she never wanted to let go. "If…if he gets out of this okay. I think…I need to ask you for something."

Leia's eyes widen a fraction. "Oh. That's…something you should ask Han."

"He won't care if it comes from his father, you know that. I mean, I'd like to, but he might find it spiteful."

"Of course." Leia gives her a worn, heartbroken smile. "You don't even need to ask."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd now you know why he was so vehemently against going back to the state, or letting her take a job out there, or really discussing anything about his childhood.
> 
> The working title was "soggy oatmeal" and what a LIE of a TITLE that was
> 
>  **Summary of Ben's time in the House of Broken Toys:**  
>  Enter our (not quite) hero onto the scene of an old house. This is where his nasty childhood took place. He was goaded at a young age by Snoke, who in this universe, was something of a drug lord. He tried to groom Ben to be his successor, but Ben was uninterested. His only reason for not speaking up against Snoke was fear for his parents and himself. He was physically punished for whatever was deemed misbehavior. If he had a tantrum, they sedated him. His memories here are unpleasant and make his blood boil. The only thing keeping him calm here is thinking about Rey and how even though he was so broken in childhood, she still loves him. She doesn't know the whole story, but she still loves him, and will continue to love him once he's told her everything. His section ends with him opening the door to Snoke's old office.
> 
>  **Summary of Leia and Rey's second phone call (which isn't bad, but mentions the above):**  
>  Rey's learned bits of what happened from Poe and calls Leia while nested in Ben's bed, tears threatening to spill. She's upset for him, sad, and somewhat scared. Leia confirms her suspicions only to say the reality is worse than what Poe's discovered. Leia tells Rey the reason she and Han don't spend much time together anymore is because whenever they look at each other, they're reminded of what happened to Ben right behind their backs. Neither of them realized the severity of his situation until it was almost too late.  
> The chapter parts with Rey asking Leia's permission for something, saying it should come from Han, but Ben might find that spiteful. Leia, warmed by Rey's gesture, gives permission.


	22. Seeing Double

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Ben was good. But two...this was quite strange. More than relatively surreal. And... _amazing_.
> 
> Time Line: Somewhere before Rey is offered her internship with NASA.  
> Rating: E

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We interrupt your scheduled angst broadcast to bring you shameless smut.**
> 
> Now hold up playa what ya diggity doing here  
> I should diggity ask you the same

It gives her the strangest feeling, almost as though she's being watched. There's a tingling in the back of her mind that urges her to pay a little more attention to the situation at hand. She's in Ben's room, in Ben's bed, but she's…not kissing Ben.

He looks like Ben. His voice is similar to Ben's. But he's not Ben.

Ben is elsewhere. She thinks he might be in the shower—can hear the water going—but she doesn't remember _where_ he went. Or _how_ she's wound up here, in bed with a stranger who is almost, but not quite, entirely unlike Ben. His dark hair is less tamed than Ben's tends to be, isn't styled with mousse or combed through. His eyes are brown, but darker, lacking the golden speckles around the pupil. When she sucks on his neck, however, his moan is the same as Ben's.

 _"Fuck_ , _Rey,_ " he pants, itching to get off the rest of his clothing. She's itching too—curious to know what's hiding under his black sweater and jeans. (Another tip off—Ben owns _one_ pair of jeans, and they're indigo).

He sits up, letting her almost rip the wool from his body. Oh sweet lord he's just as built as gym-rat Ben, pecs huge over a powerful core. His scars aren't the same—no bite marks, no weird flat lines—but he still has a _ton_ , things that look like sword fighting injuries.

"Do you fence?" she asks, running her hands down his chest.

"For a while. Did reenactments too; earned some nasty battle wounds."

She nods dumbly and presses her lips to his neck, dragging soft moans from his lungs. His hands work into her hair and she feels incredibly lulled and…

Guilty?

Where the _hell_ is her boyfriend?

"Couldn't wait for me?"

Oh— _what?_

There he is, towel wrapped loosely around his hips, hair damp and body almost glistening with excess water. He cocks an eyebrow at the intruder.

"I got bored," the doppelgänger says with a shrug. "You did too, didn't you Rey?"

She looks between them, embarrassed and even more confused.

" _Kylo_."

Kylo? Not-Ben was called _Kylo?_ What kind of a name was that?

"As you can see, we didn't get to do anything _really_ fun," he says with a smirk. He glides his hands down Rey's sides and she shivers, not sure how this situation is going to pan out. Why wasn't Ben mad? Who the hell _was_ this guy? Why did he seem so familiar and _why why why did he know to touch her there?_

Her thoughts ran away from her as Kylo's fingers stroked the nape of her neck. She turned into gummy putty when this happened, and only Ben knew about it.

A second set of hands brushed her body and her eyes flickered open, staring up into golden-hued irises. The right irises. "What's going on?"

"It's your pleasure night, just like every Saturday, since Kylo works out of town all week."

"And brother dearest gets you to _himself_ all that time."

Oh sweet Jesus, they were twins.

"Not my fault we both work for the same company. You could have joined us."

"What fun would that have been?"

"Boys," she scolds, trying to take command of this loony situation. Maybe then it would make more sense. "I'm still dressed."

Two pairs of brown eyes drenched in hunger turn towards her. She's lit some fire she'll never be able to dowse. Not sure if she wants it blown to smoke at this point. Not with all this possible… _attention_.

Ben takes her thighs in his hands, dragging her forward to unfasten her belt and get these wretched pants off. Kylo starts with the hem of her shirt, pulling the loose garment off in one fluid motion. Bra off with his teeth, he starts to unbutton his jeans, wriggling out and seating himself behind her. His chest is as broad as his brother's, length nearly matches too, his cock hard and pressed to her back.

"I need you to scoot up, Sunshine," Ben says smoothly, giving kisses to her bare thighs. She knows that tone, the strangled need to make her sing.

Eagerly, Rey obeys, resting at the bed's edge with her legs spread. She's not sure how this whole damn thing started, but by god, she was entirely okay with it. Super okay as Ben's tongue meets her cunt, warm and teasing. He hooks her legs over his shoulders and she instinctively leans backwards, hitting Kylo's chest.

"Easy there, Bearcat," he purrs, gently cupping her breasts. "You're in for a long night."

Her eyes roll back into her head as his fingers pinch her nipples, rough thumbs circling sensitive pink skin. His teeth find her exposed neck and he bites down _hard_. Stars start to pop, hips bucking, orgasm building sweetly in her lower belly.

Ben picks his gaze up to meet hers, lips coated in her wetness. There's a fiery intensity to his look that has her hands in his hair, pushing him back, _back_ where she needs him.

He resists, moving onto his knees to kiss her as one of Kylo's hands drops from her breast and to her heat, joining Ben's fingers as they play about her entrance. One snakes in deep, the other climbs up to stroke her clit. The sudden fullness causes Rey to moan into Ben's mouth.

Boyfriend satisfied with her noises, he drags his lips down her throat, stopping at each nipple to coax into a peak, tongue flat and smooth, teeth sharp and teasing. His mouth works in unison with the motions of the hands cupping her. She doesn't know which one belongs to whom now, eyes shut tightly in painful pleasure.

Ben's mouth back where it belongs, his fingers stroke deeply into her for a few pumps, returning to the entrance to rub a spot that never ceased to make her cry. Rey bites back a shriek as her muscles convulse, pulsing against Ben's fingers as he smirks against her skin.

" _Sunshine_ ," he says smoothly, teeth making soft red poppies all down her thighs, scraping and marking her skin, "should we switch places?"

"Us?"

"No, goose, _us_ ," Kylo says with a chuckle and a nip to her neck. "Him and me, not you two. What would _I_ do in that scenario?"

As hot as it would be to see two of Ben making out, she's certain she doesn't _actually_ want to see Ben and his _twin brother_ making out. Maybe in a weird dream fantasy with clones, or unrelated doppelgängers.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you want."

Kylo moves from behind her, gently lowering her back to the plush bedding. He stops at a breast, it finally his turn to pluck with his mouth. He's rougher than Ben, his teeth hungry and lips bruising. She squeals when Ben moves to copy his brother, her other breast less abused by his tongue, gentle and torturous motions causing her toes to twitch.

Next thing she knows, she's being yanked to the edge of the bed, her neck hanging off, Ben standing in full naked glory over her. Kylo is on his knees hovering over her hips, stroking himself lazily with one hand. "Ready, Bearcat?"

With Ben's hands drawing patterns over her shoulders, anticipation made her nod vigorously. "I'm ready."

He slides into her with one deep thrust, causing her back to arch and hips to roll. Oh he's _also_ huge. She thought Ben was a fucking horse but _Christ_ , Kylo might be _bigger_.

Her legs get drawn up, thighs pressed to his waist as he fucks her straight into the sheets. One of Ben's hands is near her ribs, the other guiding his tip to her waiting mouth. She _loves_ this part, the first contact that makes his breath hitch. He lets her tongue and lips do most of the work, licking and sucking until his breathing is completely uneven and ragged.

Too soon the pressure inside her body is lifted and Kylo sits back on his haunches, eyes wild and alive. He nods to Ben and the two share a silent plan of action. Armed with a pillow, Ben pulls her down onto the floor, her ass up and legs spread. Her hands are placed on Kylo's thighs, his legs open and swollen cock close enough to taste. She realizes, with a bit of puzzlement, that she really _wants_ to taste it.

And as Ben pushes into her, from behind, Kylo nudges from the front. She bobs in time to Ben's rhythm (which is torturously slow as always to begin with), his hands secure on her hips. After a few moments and moans, one dips down to toy with her clit, rubbing and stroking the sensitive nerves.

Kylo is _hot_ in her mouth, stretching her cheeks and sliding so easily against her tongue. It'll be no time at all before her jaw is sore, but _Jesus_ is she ready for it. He tastes of her and salted skin, strange yet appealing. She drags her hands across the smooth skin of his inner thighs and he throws back his head in a groan.

"You're doing great, Bearcat," he says with a breathy effort, his hands stroking through her hair. She moans against his length and he thrusts into her mouth, the noises from his lungs questionably legal.

Ben increases his pace, raking sobs from her throat, ones too intense to keep pleasing Kylo. He slides down onto his knees, bringing her mouth to his and kissing her deeply, tongue moving with hers. Somewhere in a haze, she hears Ben's orgasm groan—something lower and more feral than any other noise he makes. His chest is pressed to her back, teeth nipping at her neck.

He finishes too quickly for Rey and the twins switch places again, Kylo pulling her into his lap as Ben kneels behind, his hands smooth down her back. She rides Kylo with Ben's mouth hot on her shoulders, his fingers splayed over her breasts. A hand between them, Kylo takes her with him, hitting searing white climax in succession.

Exhausted, Rey falls forward, head resting on Kylo's shoulder, two sets of hands gliding up her skin. She is picked up—by whom, she wasn't paying attention—and deposited gently onto the bed, both men climbing up to lie on either side of her, their arms circling her waist.

"A nap and we'll go again, Sunshine?"

She strokes her hands through both of their hair, relishing the thick sweat and heavy breathing. "Anything you want, boys."

• • •

Rey wakes in Ben's arms, sitting up in pure confusion. He groans at her sudden movement, rolling over and dragging her with him.

"Sunshine, it's got to be like, six, at the latest."

"I know but I had…the _strangest_ dream." She settles down beside him in the pillows, carding her fingers through the gentle waves of his hair. "How do you feel about a threesome?"

"I feel weirded out because you're asking at—" he glances at the clock behind her, "— _five in the morning_."

"Don't you want to hear the dream?"

"In four hours."

"There were two of you," she starts, plowing forward. "And I had you both to myself. It was… _divine._ "

"Did I get tail too, or did we just share you?"

"It was your brother."

"I'm an only child, Sunshine. Thank god."

She shrugs and kisses his temple. "Just a fantasy, Ben. Nothing to overanalyze."

"If you _really_ wanted, Hux offered to try the four of us together. He was pretty drunk at the time, but I think it was a real offer." He yawns and buries his face deeper into goose down. "If you wanted, thought I'd extend the olive branch."

"Would you be okay sleeping with Phasma again?"

"With you naked in the room, I'm not sure I could concentrate on Greta."

"Call him in later in the morning, then. I think I know what we're doing this weekend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, she's spoiled as hell in real life and in her dreams.
> 
> "He had found a Nutri-Matic machine which had provided him with a plastic cup filled with a liquid that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike tea."
> 
> Will the four-way come next? (I swear it'll happen) Or will it be more angst?  
> Who knows.


	23. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was something once, but he hopes he's not the same, not anymore.
> 
> Sorry folks, we're concluding the drop-dead angst now instead of the 4-way. It'll happen. I swear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally don't think there's a lot upsetting in the first section, but I can do what I did before and summarize if anyone's really uncomfortable.

Inside the office is exactly as expected. It twists knots in his stomach, just looking at the amount of children's toys scattered broken along the moldy green carpeting. The smell inside is musty with traces of the ever-lingering body odor, churning his insides as he inches into the room. The dust mask provides no relief from the smell, and he fights the urge to vomit. He's been fighting that urge since he set foot in this wretched house.

It's the needles that catch his eye first, memory of the drugged up children flooding his brain, images of sick kids like ghosts on the edges of his vision. He only joined their ranks when he was violent, needing to be sedated before being strapped down. He had been violent more often than not, temper and hatred for the world and all its wrongs constantly creeping up into his behavior.

There are papers scattered about, some coated in mildew, others nearly disintegrated. Money inquiries, bank statements, drug shipments—all are tacked about the walls and desk space, littering the flat surfaces and coating the chipping paint. He'd burn them if he weren't positive he'd be charged with arson. This place was a powder keg ready to explode.

In the back right corner was a shrine, something he'd cringed at whenever he was brought to kneel before it. It haunted him, had carved awful scars on his knees. Inside the shrine was the mask, the one _that man_ would wear when he _really_ intended to torture Ben. He couldn't even handle the thought of looking at it again.

So he didn't, raising the rubber mallet and sending it crashing through the wood and glass, anger heavy in his muscles. Disgusting thing. The head comes down again, and again, ringing out soundlessly in his frenzied ears. Rage is boiling too quickly in his bloodstream, blinding him, making him feral once more. There is little to do when he becomes like this, little to calm the beast that had been raised to live in his skin. He's repressed it all these years, but sometimes it leaks out. Sometimes like now, when he's forced to face his demons. He growls when only shards remain, eyes wild in the darkness of the room. He drags the mallet along the floor, raising it to slam hard into _that man's_ desk, splintering the wood in one massive strike. He wants this place to _burn_ , to ignite and get swallowed down to hell. Red edges along his vision when he stalks from the office, carrying himself heavily down to the first floor, bursting open the fake panel in the wall that had hid emergency cash. There is nothing there now, but the groan of the metal safe sounds _glorious_ in his tortured ears.

The door to the basement is unlocked and he slams it open with a resonating crash. Headlamp switched on, he descends like a wolf into its depths, baring his teeth behind the mask, weapon raised and ready to spring. It is thankfully empty. He's certain the police reports have dissuaded the junkies from setting foot in this hellhole. There's a possibility the results of his damage sent them scurrying too at the time of the incident.

It's damp downstairs, the same kind of muggy chill he remembers, but this time he doesn't let it into his bones, won't allow it to worm its way under his skin. He's in charge for once, and he won't bow to the beasts in the back of his mind. He may be alone, but he's strong, and dammit, he's coming out of this alive.

He kicks the door in on the furthest room from the stairs. He's near positive he sees movement, the flash of eyes reflected from his light, but he _howls_ in response, voice low and monstrous, strangled with fury. Whatever past ghost dared to linger will have vanished by now, his demon's rage trailing him like a tail in his wake. He's not invincible, but he feels it, feels the way some of the drugs made him think. He doesn't remember their names anymore, but remembers the endless feeling of flying, of doing anything because everything was possible.

Bashing in a third door and wrecking the shackled chair that sat inside, he hears the whisper of floorboards upstairs. Something—or some _one_ —is in the house with him. He's no longer alone. A straggler? In his fucked up state, he's not so sure he'll let anyone from his childhood horror show leave this building alive. He stalks up the stairs, body heavy on his feet, and steps coiled around the corner, muscles prepped to spring. He begins to raise the mallet—

And Leia stops in her tracks, granddad's old sword from the war raised in her hands. "Benjamin," she breathes.

His name revokes the trance. His arms lower and he slumps, heartbeat quick in his ears. "Mom, I—"

"Let's go home." She lowers her own weapon and stretches out a hand to him. "Come on, I won't watch you become _that thing_ again."

He takes her hand reluctantly and lets his mother lead him out to her car. Sitting in the passenger's seat, he watches his hands as they tremble the whole ride back.

* * *

Saturday arrives earlier than she thought it would. A week without any sort of contact with Ben has been _miserable_ , only hearing his voice once when he called in the dead of the night. And groggy by the morning, tired and sick of being alone and without him, she tears into the box he'd left her on the counter, its white ribbon fluttering uselessly to the kitchen floor.

Inside is…

Paper. Paper scattered with his spidery handwriting. There are a lot of sheets, more than enough for a small journal entry. This isn't what she expected to find, though she also hadn't a clue what she had been expecting. She starts to pull them out, arranging them on the counter, staring wide-eyed at the array of words. She sees some before she starts to really read, things like _drugs_ and _homicide_ on the white paper, staining it red and black. Jittery, she starts at the beginning.

It's…an account of what he's been keeping from her. Some of the pages are old, as if they'd been ripped from childhood diaries. Others are newer, fresh, with ink smudges from the night before he'd left. Overall, the content is horrifying. Dreadful, awful things taking place over the course of too many years, atrocities committed to such a small child the world seemed crueler and more unfair than yesterday. There's dried blood on more than one corner and her heart leaps at the sight, cinching tight in pain for him.

This is what her lover has been hiding. This is the demon in his closet, a dark and insidious past that kept him from reaching out, or being remotely human, for too many years before she came into his life. Rey feels like she's burning the more words she reads, stomach filled with bile for a time long in the past.

Halfway through, she has to stand up. Halfway through, she retreats, mind swimming, brain not wanting to comprehend the words. She'd been so angry with him for disappearing right out of the blue like that, but this…she could understand. It's surreal to think about him like this, though. Her Ben—her kind, loving, tremendously sweet Ben—had been scarred beyond recognition. It was a true marvel he could touch her without causing pain to either her or himself after this. A miracle he wasn't in a psych ward, his consciousness broken down too far to resemble anything that had come before, a miracle that he didn't have permanent psychosis, or traumatic brain injuries from all the…the…

She's going to be sick.

She considers gouging her eyes out for a split second there, unsure of what to do, or to say. Does she tell Poe? No, no, not without Ben's permission. She won't talk about this without his okay, but she's not sure how long it'll be before she speaks with him next. He's supposed to return tomorrow, but with the sheer amount of _shit_ he seems to be going through, she wouldn't be surprised if it takes him another week. Or a month.

Rey busies herself cleaning for most of the day. Sitting down to do work leaves her anxious and paranoid, so she opts to do something completely mindless. The apartment is spotless in no time, so she cooks. She's not the best cook, but it's also mindless and also doesn't have her thinking about Ben's terrifying childhood.

God, she just wants to hold him.

She'd…She'd be the best damn girlfriend when he got back, would hold him to her chest, let him bury his face in her shoulder, and stroke his back until he was ready to sleep. He didn't need to say a word. She didn't want to watch him break down, didn't want him to hurt.

Rey practically cries herself to sleep, heart aching so badly for her lover.

* * *

"How are you doing?"

The dinner set in front of him has been growing cold for a half hour. Leia had finished and cleaned her dishes while he continued to stare blankly into his own.

"Ben."

"I feel disconnected."

He looks up, then, his eyes rimmed red. He hasn't slept well since he visited the house. It was somewhat cathartic, but once again turning into a beast had drained more of his emotional energy than he cared to admit.

"Eat, please, you're getting thin again."

He'd lost weight since arriving. At least five pounds, maybe more.

"I am eating."

"You pick around it. I know you're stressed and not hungry, but please, sweetheart, _eat_."

He grumbles low, shoving a forkful of chicken into his mouth. "Are you going to let me go back tomorrow?"

"I think Rey will die of worry if I don't, but I don't think you're sound."

"I'll sleep it off."

"You've been saying that for two days."

"I appreciate that you're pushing me, but I'm still shaken up. I don't…want her to _see_ that, ever. I thought that had been flushed from my system for good."

"We can't hide all our demons forever, Ben." Leia sighs and rests her arms on the counter. "Life doesn't work out as it should, but you saw the end result there. You went back, you let your anger out. That place isn't what it was, and it will never again be your own personal hell."

"It felt like he was watching me," he says low. "Like there were eyes all over me when I was there."

"Your imagination plays tricks on you, yours especially. The place was empty, is hopefully one day getting torn down. He's dead, Ben. Snoke's dead."

The name makes him flinch, but not as badly as before. "I know."

"Keep moving forward, sweetie. We've tackled this skeleton more than once already and it keeps rearing its ugly head. Keep pressing onward."

• • •

The flight back in the morning—for Leia did let him leave, said a tearful goodbye at the gate, but did allow her son to vanish once more—is surreal. Time seems to go backwards, and by the time he touches down, it's as if he'd only blinked and landed in New York. JFK is still a nightmare (for it's always a nightmare), and finding his way to the baggage terminal takes longer than it ever should, too many tourists moving like bumbling cattle through the airport.

He scans the conveyer belt for his bag, is still too disoriented when it's wheeled in front of him, familiar fingers curled around the handle. Her voice is soft. "Hi, Ben."

It takes only that slow second for him to break. She holds his arms open for him and he folds around her, arms like iron across her back. She's his _everything_ , and after that mess he'd left her, she's still here. She's still gone out of her way to take care of him, and in the moment, that's all he can ask for.

"I made dinner," she says when she guides him to the garage, his luggage in one of her hands, his hand in the other. "Figured you might be tired. Called the office, told them you'd be extending your week break to take a personal day tomorrow. Your boss—I think he's your boss—was kind about it, totally understanding."

"Rey."

"Yes, love?"

She so rarely calls him love, only does it when he's in the most distress. It threatens to crack him again. "How are you so calm?"

"I love you, I'll still love you when you open up about this to me, and it's my job to make sure you're okay. I'm your rock, Ben."

He's never heard sweeter words.

The drive home is silent, her eyes always ahead. He doesn't like the darkness cascading down and she notices, moving one hand from the wheel to hold his. She's so good to him; she's so comforting. He hopes his seams stay together long enough to hold her close again before coming undone.

The moment the apartment door closes, she's pressing herself into him, trying to crush him in a hug. "I read all that you left me," she says softly, burying her face in his collar. "And I want you to know I love you, no matter what." She's kissing his neck now, a gesture usually sexual but now nothing but tender. "You're not a monster, you're just a man. And you're mine, Ben. I'll have you no matter what."

He nods, the first sob breaking. "Can we…Can you hold me for a little bit? I just…I'm…"

She takes him by the hands and leads him to his bedroom, lying with him in the sheets. She brings his head up to rest upon her stomach, fingers threading softly through his hair. He wants to disappear into her, to sink down and never remember anything from before she stepped into his life.

"I love you, sweetheart," she says softly, bending to kiss his forehead. "I love you so much."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He just wants to be loved, poor thing, and she just wants to love him...


	24. Gimmal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adjusting is difficult, no matter how big or small the change.

It's hard for him to readjust, and watching him struggle with it makes her heart ache. He says nothing more that first night and is quiet Monday morning, eyes glassy and almost unseeing. She reaches out to him as much as she can, but her touch doesn't seem to be nearly as comforting as she wants it to be. He's still hurting, and she figures he'll keep hurting for a while longer. There isn't a magic pill to make it all go away.

She calls out of work too. She can't stand the idea of leaving him alone when he's this broken. He probably won't do anything to harm himself, but he's lacking some piece to calm his mind. So she kisses, and she holds, and she lets him sit in silence until he's ready to talk.

"It's over," he says weakly when she sets dinner on the table. She's not the best cook, but she's really put her heart into this one. At the very least, she's grateful it opens his mouth.

"What is?"

"The mess. The…everything I left for you to read. It's over."

"You don't sound pleased."

"I feel…" He sighs and looks down at his plate. "Hollow. I thought somehow confronting all of that would clear my head, let me move forward immediately, but the wounds are still fresh."

"Healing is a process." She reaches across the counter to touch his hand, to get him to look up at her. "It's okay, it's going to take time."

"I've been _healing_ for years. When can I just be _better?_ "

"I don't know." She wishes she did, for his sake. "But I'll be with you through it, until the end."

They read side by side later, and it takes her a half hour to realize he's not actually reading, only staring at the same page. She tucks herself into his arms then, cuddles right against his chest. With her arms around his trunk, there's no way for him to ignore the comfort she's trying to give, that she wants to do all she can. It aches so _badly_ to see him less excited, less full of life than usual.

"When all the stars fall away," she says softly when they're in bed, his head cradled in the hollow below her chin, "and the darkness comes to the end of the world, I'll still have you. When we're nothing but stardust and the world is ash, I'll still be yours. If you want to leave everything behind and start over, I'll follow."

"No." His voice reverberates in her throat. "I'm not dragging you away from anywhere."

"Don't leave me, either. It'll hurt worse if you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Good…we should do something this weekend, take your mind off things." She kisses the top of his head, trying her best to hold him close. He's a little too big for her to get her arms all the way around, too tall to do much but throw her leg over his hip and snuggle closer.

He pulls her in a little tighter. "I'd like that, Sunshine."

* * *

 

He is tired and sad through the week. There's a distant look in his eyes and his bones seem to weigh a thousand pounds. She does all she can to support him, giving him space for silence and giving little bits of affection wherever she can. She holds his hand whenever they're in the apartment, following him around like a duckling until finally he cracks and kisses her. It's always a sad kiss, something lacking exuberance and joy. When they lie in bed, she tries to kiss him better—a childish whim that she knows won't go anywhere—sprinkling soft touches and gentle flutters on his cheeks and temples.

"I don't deserve this," he mutters one night, his face fractured like a teacup.

"You don't deserve to ache," she corrects, pushing hair from his eyes.

"I meant—"

"I know you meant me." Her voice is soft, melancholy. "But I disagree."

She's never seen him so close to tears as she's witnessed for the duration of the week. It'll be good to do something Friday night, something to take his mind off this.

He follows her warily when she leads him to Poe's. She told him something about a quiet wine night, something with just three of them, but when she opens the door, he is floored, surprised, and unable to move.

"You said _small._ "

"You need some company, Ben." She stands on her toes to kiss his cheek. "So I asked your friends to put something together."

"Rey I…I don't _have_ this many friends."

"You'd be surprised how many people actually like you if you spoke more," Poe says by way of greeting. "Come on inside, don't be chicken and make me have to drag you."

He lets Rey guide him, her smaller hand clutched around his. She gives him a squeeze to reassure him, to remind him that she's there. He lets himself lean on her a little, lets her presence comfort him. He knows she's done this all by herself for him, ran around with preparations much the way he did for her on the Christmas during her internship. She is so good to him.

And she inevitably leaves him to fend for himself, knowing he needs a good kick in the ass to start to get out of this funk. He knows too, but there were gentler ways of doing things.

Phasma finds him first, a glass of Kentucky bourbon in one hand. If he'd never heard her speak, never caught the lilt in her voice, he would have guessed she were a southern girl. "You look about as wound up as you were yesterday."

"It's not the easiest transition to make."

"I know." She takes a sip of her drink. "I spoke to Leia Wednesday morning."

"My _mother_ spoke to you?"

She shrugs. "I don't think she _likes_ me still, but she trusts me to handle you. Your girlfriend is sweet and all, but she's not stern; you, Leia, and I all know that."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"No, but you need a good slap. You know yourself better than this. _I_ know you better than this." She puts her free hand on his shoulder and sighs. "But I am so _proud_ of you, regardless. I can't imagine how difficult it was, to go through all of that again."

"It was…painful."

"And you did it. It's over. I'm going to keep an eye on you though, understand? It'll kill me if anything goes wrong now."

He smiles, genuinely smiles, for the first time in a few days. "Thanks, Greta."

"Don't think I won't beat some sense into you either. You should come back to the gym; I need a new sparring partner, everyone else is too short."

"I'll think about it."

She leaves him to mingle and he attaches himself to Rey again and she lets him tag along for another ten minutes. Then, he is sent off again, this time in a clever guise to use the bathroom and the room is buzzing.

There are more people here than he'd ever expect to give enough of a damn about him. Work friends mostly, but there are others scattered about. It takes a few minutes of stumbling through small talk before he again finds a familiar face, this time in the shape of Finn.

"Hey." Finn's smile is always large. "You look like a fish out of water."

"I feel painfully overwhelmed."

"Like, need a breather overwhelmed?"

He shakes his head. "No, not quite yet. I just…didn't expect this, you know? There are so many people here."

"We don't always get along the best with you, but…we're here for you, man. You keep us together. And you make her happy, so what more can we ask for?"

"Less yelling on my part."

Finn laughs. "You're a hardass, but you're a good boss for it. I don't think we'd be what we are if it weren't for you."

"That's an incredible compliment." He smirks. "Are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"Yeah. I try to only say what I mean, and I mean it."

It's heartwarming to hear, especially since they'd been off to such a rocky start. Ben claps him on the back. "Thank you. It does mean a lot."

Finn disappears later, leaving Ben by himself yet again. Only this time, Hux catches him, pulling him away to a quieter part of Poe's apartment and thrusting a gin and tonic at him.

"This is extreme, needing me to be drunk so you can deal with me."

The grin Hux cracks stays, surprisingly. "Feeling better?"

"Taking concern now, are you?"

"No, just can't imagine what it would be like if they promote Linda to your position if anything _were_ to go wrong."

Ben laughs, the mock animosity falling from the conversation. "You _still_ hate her? I don't even remember what she did wrong."

"Screwed up an _entire_ set of blueprints hours before one of the biggest annual conferences. Your predecessor had the entire team trying to fix it."

He sucks in a breath. "I take it back, that does sound bad."

"So thank god we have _you_ Mr. Perfectionist, or else I'd be bowling with all the failed replacements' heads."

"I don't think they'd let you get away with that for too long."

"No, probably not." He sighs. "Are you doing better though?"

"A little. It's strange. I think I'm improving, but I've felt nothing but worse since the start of the week."

"Sometimes there's a disconnect between different parts of our minds. Things we can't control. I know it's easier said than done, but try not to worry about how confusing it all seems. One foot forward."

He nods. "One step at a time."

Hux departs with a stern look from Phasma across the room, saying something in parting and ducking away. Lost again, this time Ben decides he does need air. It's cool inside with the air conditioning, but his skin is starting to pebble with goosebumps, either from the air or the atmosphere.

He finds Rey alone on the little balcony, her back to the door. She beams when she turns to see him, pulling him down for a kiss. If there weren't people inside, and if he were ruder, he might have stolen her away, ran off down the streets of Manhattan like teenagers discovering the world, not a care in the universe to chase them down or make them fear. But he doesn't rip her away, instead lets her bring him closer to the tall railing.

"It's like looking into the stars, but they've all fallen to earth," she says softly, eyes transfixed with midtown traffic.

"It looks like this from my windows too."

"But we can't hear it when we watch. You're also not this high up."

"It's a strange sort of beauty, isn't it?"

She nods, taking his hand. "It reminds me of you a little."

"Really?"

"When you drive up the Hutch at night, across the water, it looks like the City is burning. It never sleeps, with the great orange and yellow lights casting licking flames out onto the river. It burns, endlessly, and in the morning, it's back to business, as if the night just fades away." She squeezes his hand. "You're like the City, Ben. No matter what happens in the violent nights, it's always a lost dream by mid-morning. You go up in flames only to march on unscarred and unburned when the sun peaks in the sky. You're resilient and strong, and I'm confident you'll always be that way."

With a slow breath, she turns to him, fumbling something in her hands. "I know this is unconventional, and the timing isn't the best, but…" She drops to one knee and his brain freezes. "Ben Solo, you are the most important person to have stepped into my life. You've made me realize so many thing about myself that I'd ignored or passed over before, and I don't think I can name a time I was happier before I met you." A pause, and her voice wavers. "Will you marry me?"

He can feel his heartbeat thundering in his ribs. "Does this mean I have to take your name?"

A tense second passes before she laughs. "God, no, there are too many Ben Kenobis in this world as it is."

He drops down beside her, taking by the shoulders and kissing her fiercely. "I will, Sunshine. God, I will."

"Well, give me your hand, then!" She's chuckling through tears; small prickles of happiness at the corners of her eyes. Taking his hand, she slips a white gold band onto his left ring finger, its center wrapped in black and punctuated with a modest square-cut diamond. "It was hell getting your finger measured without you noticing, did you know that?"

"I didn't, no. Glad I didn't buy a ring too— _that_ would have turned out silly."

He kisses her again when it's on, and again, and again, eventually dragging her up onto her feet when he stands. She's so beautiful, standing in the fire and glow of the City, her cheeks painted a glossy orange, hair stained with refractions. And he's _so_ hers, cold metal burning hot on his finger, already serving as a reminder of what they were to each other.

She beat him to the question and honestly, he's not surprised.

"Well," she starts, fussing the folds of her skirt back into place. "Should we go tell them?"

Ben looks over his shoulder to see Finn cackling behind the glass sliding door, Poe grumpily throwing fifties in his direction. There are more smiles than he'll count, but he catches Phasma's. It's soft but proud. Like she'd had a hand in this. _She did_ , he reminds himself. She's the reason he could even begin to open up to Rey. She broke him out; it's only fair she feels proud.

"I think they already know."

Rey turns her head, smile spreading at the hushed party peeking through the glass. "We should at least go inside."

He wraps her hand up in his and she leans to kiss his neck when she feels the ring press against her fingers. With a few short steps, they leave uncertainty behind, crossing over the threshold, together, as something permanent, for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...Are we getting close to an end?


	25. Pre-Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....a wedding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it's been since July? Wow.
> 
> This follows directly from the last.

She paws lamely through the florist’s book once more before setting it down on the island. There’s more of her stuff in the kitchen than usual—boxes of family heirlooms, trinkets, tchotchkes, silverware—the works. It covers the corners of the tiled floor and creeps upon the marble countertops. More of her clothes hang in the bedroom closet and it seems almost _unreal_.

“None of this stands out to me.”

He appears from the den, topping off her glass with what remains of the champagne bottle. “Some of the arrangements will look better with the venue than others.” He sneaks a kiss on her cheek before pulling up a stool to sit with her. “Anything heavy in blue is out, since the accents are mostly red and gold.”

“So then it’s down to poinsettia or roses? In summer?”

“Or poppies, peonies, snapdragons—red isn’t _difficult_ , Sunshine.”

“I just don’t want poinsettia at a summer wedding.” She lets her head fall into her hands. “I cannot believe those words are leaving my mouth.”

“What, the Bridezilla stuff? You’re not close to that.”

“No, I mean just the marriage in general.” She looks up to her will-be groom. “It’s just…I’m still so _young_ , you know? I’m what, twenty-five? And I’ve already found you. It’s just surreal.”

He tries to repress the grin pricking at the corners of his lips. “Life’s a little strange sometimes.”

“It’s not usually this weird. Are you sure none of these arrangements stick out to you?”

“Whatever you want, we’ll get.” He kisses her forehead, inching closer. “Hell, if it were up to me, we’d have a ten-person gathering and get the hell out of here for a few months.”

“With no pictures, no real memories, and we’d forget the day in lieu of the honeymoon. Which is ridiculous, Ben.”

“I _know_ that’s how you feel. I understand, that’s why I said if it were up to me.”

She places her hand before him, smirking as he kisses her palm. He’s had more to drink than she, and he gets more sentimental, more _affectionate_ , when he’s like this.

“I love you, and I want whatever you want to be happy.”

“We can’t both not have opinions on anything going into this plan.”

“The wine was bad. All three caterers were fine, but the wine was bad. That’s my only gripe.”

“I still think we should hire a planner.”

“We have a few months to solidify things.” He slides the portfolio away from her hands. “There’s no reason to be fussing about this on Christmas Eve.”

"This day isn’t any different from any other.”

"Except it is, and it’s night. It’s past eleven. Come on, Sunshine—“ he kisses her cheek again, “—it’s time for bed.”

“It’s _early_.”

“Yeah, and the quicker to sleep, the quicker to wake up.”

She takes her damn sweet time scrubbing makeup from her face. She’d put it on special for tonight—for him—and it had run its course, her eyeliner faded and lipstick smudged. They had skipped dinner in favor of cocktails, shrimp tails and the ends of soft cheese on a platter by the sink. He had gotten quiet when she brought up the changing winds, how this time next year wouldn’t be nearly the same.

So much was going to change.

“Are we still having dinner with your granddad tomorrow?” he asks when she slides into bed beside him.

She stifles a yawn. “Him, two aunts, and a few family friends.” Rey rolls her eyes when he makes a face. “Be _nice_ to the man, for god’s sake. He’s the reason you have a ring, anyway.”

“I could have bought _you_ a ring.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t, and I’m not loaded with cash. Besides, even if you can’t stand your family, I quite like mine.”

“It’s not that I don’t _like_ mine,” he insists, clicking off his lamp. “It’s just that I don’t get along with my father.”

“Is he invited to the wedding?”

“I don’t know. I should say yes, but we haven’t spoken in years.” Ben sighs and rolls to face her, taking one of her hands in his own. “I don’t want any animosity there, and I’m worried he’s going to cause some sort of scene.”

“Would your mother let that happen?”

He shrugs. “She’s not in charge of him. He does what he wants, and the rest of the family either scoffs or turns a blind eye. It’s something of an internal disaster.”

“I want to meet him at some point, though,” she says softly. “It seems only right.”

“Not all families are cohesive, Sunshine. I know you grew up weird—”

“It wasn’t _weird_.”

“Whatever. It wasn’t the norm. Even if both of your parents are in the picture, that doesn’t mean it’s a happy one. Ours wasn’t as happy as it could have been, and I don’t know if I want to invite that back into my life right now, especially when I’m so happy with you.”

He’s such a cute idiot. “I’ll speak to Leia, see what she thinks.”

“Don’t go behind my back.”

“I won’t, I’ll just get a second, equally biased opinion.”

Ben chuckles. “I hope you know you’re marrying into a very stubborn bunch.”

“I knew that long before I proposed.”

With a few messy, lazy kisses, they settle in to sleep, her back against his chest. It’s cold tonight and the heat is down low, making it perfect to press close together. He sighs softly against the back of her neck, tense.

“Do you think we’ll still be this happy after we take our vows?”

“I don't see a reason we wouldn’t be.”

“They say a lot changes with marriage. It gets worse with kids.”

She shivers. “We’re not having kids for a _long_ time. I’ve got my whole career ahead of me right now.”

“Eventually, then. Things will change quicker than we know.”

“So we’ll take it one challenge at a time. We don’t have to climb Everest in a day.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

She turns in his arms. “Of course. I’m scared as hell. But I’m also excited, and I’m ready to take this next step with you.” She kisses him softly, lacing her fingers into his hair. “I love you and have for years. I’m impatient and want the whole fiasco over with yesterday, but for you, I can wait.”

“Just so you know, I’m terrified.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” She hums softly and nuzzles into his neck. “Do you think it’ll snow tonight?”

“I think it’ll rain. We’d have to go more northward for a white Christmas.”

“Next year let’s do that—just the two of us.”

“Of course,” he says into her hair, his lips pecking her crown. “Of course, Sunshine.”


	26. After Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is excited for them, and for that, she is very, very relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immediately following the proposal chapter.

Time resets when they reenter Poe’s living room through the viewer-friendly glass doors. He’s shaking beside her and she can’t stop smiling for the life of her. Her cheeks and lips are starting to hurt, but she’s in such a dreamy state she’s forgotten how to stop. _Congratulations!_ are thrown at them from every direction and the embarrassment of being the spotlight is making her blush. Not him though—he eats it up like starlight.

“I can’t _believe_ she beat you to it,” Poe says with a huff, now out a hundred dollars.

“If either of us has their head screwed on, it’s her.” Ben’s arm sneaks its way around her waist and she is happily pulled into his side. “Did you really think I’d be able to pick out a ring in any acceptable amount of time? It would have taken _years_.”

"And how long did it take?”

Rey shrugs. “A month or two? He’s easy to shop for—monochrome, no colors, no fun.”

“I have _blue_ things—”

“Are you referring to the one pillow on the bed that’s a slightly _bluer_ shade of grey, or your suits?”

He grumbles and nudges her away from Poe and him. “Finn looks fit to bursting with enthusiasm. Over in that other direction.”

“Why can’t I talk to Poe?”

“Because you’re both ganging up on me.”

Poe gives her a wicked grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make a few snide comments in your honor.”

In a flash, she is before Finn, his bright smile so white from the contrast. She had not been expecting him to be so happy for her considering whom her now-fiancé is—oh that sounds _weird_ —, but here he stands, grinning like he knows the best secret in the room.

“You did it.”

She gets crushed into a bear hug before she can even breathe. “I did it,” she agrees, laughing. “I got down on one knee. I _did it_.”

“Can I ask why, if that’s all right?”

She screws her face up, confused. “Because I love him and we’ve been talking about our futures together for a long while now.”

“No, why _you_ did the unconventional. We all know you’re disgustingly in love—just waiting for the never-ending puppy dog stage to end. After three years.”

“It would have taken him another year to work up the courage, and a year after that to settle on a ring—I’ll wait for him, but not for that long without _doing_ something.”

“If you’re foregoing traditional conventions, will he wear the white dress?”

She pictures Ben in a wedding gown made for someone her size, his broad chest destroying any semblance of a sweetheart neckline, the cups not even making it to his pecs. The laugh to follow makes her red in the face. “I don’t think I could say my vows with a straight face.”

“You know, I am glad he’s the one who’ll be there for you.”

"I thought you loathed Ben?”

“Well, I did. He’s a cocky, arrogant, sarcastic piece of work, but he reached out to me. Wanted to get to know me since I’m his girl’s best friend. And he’s now engaged to my best friend. So we both simmered down and decided to get along.”

“I want you to be my maid of honor,” she says without a hint of humor. “We’ll get you a tie or something to match the other bridesmaids.”

“I’m flattered, but won’t that look a little silly?”

“I’m almost certain Ben’s about to have two Best Men, since it would be wiser not to pick than let Hux and Poe fight to the death.”

Finn glances over to where the three are talking. “Poe would win.”

"Poe would definitely win. But then Phasma…”

“Good point.”

           

The evening winds down after midnight. She takes Ben’s keys and brings the car around the block as her not-so-sober fiancé says mutters thanks and parting words to their host. He looks giddier than he’s been in a month when he climbs into the passenger’s seat.

“You knew you wouldn’t be drinking, didn’t you?”

“I figured if I popped the question, they’d be practically feeding you champagne.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” He hums, facing the window, watching the lights pass by. “Can you believe you did that?”

“Did what?”

“Asked me, ring and all?”

“Yes, I can, considering I _did_ do that.”

“But…” His voice trails off, lost in the night. “You know what this means now, right? Everything’s going to change.”

“Not everything. We’ll move in together, sure, but I doubt we’ll change jobs anytime soon. Or our routines.”

"Date night might change.”

She snorts. “Date night has been ‘reheated leftovers and a movie’ night for _three months_.”

“Yeah. We might actually start going out to dinner.”

“If we do that, it’ll only last until the novelty of referring to me to strangers as ‘my _wife_ ’ wears off.”

“Never. That is _never_ going to end. I am _never_ going to stop wanting to say that.”

“Do you want to make a bet and lose a hundred dollars too?”

“Sure. In five years, see if you’re still groaning over my insistence of calling you that. For now, you’ll have to settle for my fiancée.”

 _Settle_. Sure. She is _not_ the one settling here. She is the plain-Jane engineer in the basement and he is the brilliant, beautiful physicist whose job is more important than her entire career. Sometimes she still wondered if this were _fair_ to him, admitting love and stealing him away from a more worthy woman. Greedily keeping him to herself out of an act of love-born selfishness.

He’s kissing her all over once they’re back in his apartment. Standing in his sleek kitchen, he is peppering her with little touches, making her skin snap with the electricity of his fingers.

“Do you understand how lucky I am?” he asks between nips. “Or how _wonderful_ you are?”

“Those are my lines,” she says softly, leading him towards the bedroom.

“But you’re my sunshine.” He holds her steady, making her pause just a moment. “You’re bright and warm and always a thought on my mind with every passing day, whether I see you or not.”

“I love you,” she says with a ruffle of his hair when they are tangled in the sheets. “You’re mine, and I love you.”

It is slow tonight. Slow and wonderful, filling her chest with bubbles of heat and fluttering butterfly wings. He doesn’t last too long, but neither does she, head and heart racing with the evening’s events. He cradles her through her comedown, rests his head on the mattress between her head and shoulder, His hair tickles her nose and she is beyond content with the world. Beyond happy. She tears up, but just a little. Not enough for him to notice.

“If I never amount to anything more, I am grateful to have you.” He kisses her neck, lips lingering on unguarded skin. “Of all my accomplishments, you accepting my heart is the most important.”

“You don’t need to downplay your career—”

“I’m not. You fulfill me, better than any diploma has.” He gives a low hum, holding her tighter a moment before his limbs relax into the haze before sleep. “I can’t believe we’re going to…settle down, together. Just us two.”

“And all the ragtag friends you know will keep inviting themselves over.” She runs her hand down his side, feeling out the dip between his hips and his ribs. “Are you ready, then? To spend the rest of forever together?”

“With you beside me, I’m beyond ready.”


	27. 27,000 Dresses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dress one, or dress two? One, or two?

The reflection staring her down doesn’t quite look like her. Sure, she has Rey’s face, the tiny scar on her shoulder, the same messy brown hair, but it’s not…her, in a way. She turns around to her accompanying party and feels her chest decompress in a sigh. “Well?”

"It doesn’t look like you love it.” Leia gives her another once-over. “If you’re uncomfortable, it’s not the right one.”

“Is the neckline fine? In general, I mean.”

"It’s fine, but you can’t keep trying to pull the dress up.”

She stops fidgeting, aware of how exposed her chest feels. She barely wears anything low-cut and the sweetheart neckline is beyond daring in her book. The boutique assistant comes back with another three dresses and she huffs back to the changing room, exasperated by the last ten.

Rey returns in another dress with a train that is far too long for her liking. She’ll end up tripping on it during the ceremony, or switching to something else midway. She can’t see it working without six-inch heels.

“Is it always this tedious? Or do most people make up their minds quicker?”

“Your grandmother took about three months on the dress. I swear they were still doing alterations up to the wedding date,” her grandfather says with a wistful smile.

“I’m not like Gran.”

“Not even slightly, but pickiness does run in the family.”

“I like this one’s train,” Harriet pipes up.

“I hate the train.”

“Well, onto the next.”

This continues for another two hours. She doesn’t like the Cinderella cuts, hates the mermaid dresses, no long trains, no full-length sleeves for a July wedding, no gaudy busts, et cetera, et cetera. Rey is exhausted by the time the last silk and lace comes off and she’s allowed to put her street clothes back on.

“They all seem so _tacky_ ,” she grieves to Harriet and Niamh.

Niamh shrugs. “I thought the champagne one was nice.”

“That one was the worst.”

“You don’t want ruffles, no beading, no crystals, nothing too low or too high. It’s a long list of no and a very short one of yes.” Harriet hands her bag to her and tousles her hair. ”What _do_ you want?”

“Something simple. No extravagance.”

“I’m shocked I asked. For once, you’re allowed to go a little overboard and you want to stick to plain? You do plain daily.”

“I like plain. I can think about this later; I’ve got family lunch in a half hour.”

   • • •        

This is more of her immediate and extended family than she’s seen in a decade. The wedding is still a month away, but her grandfather managed to talk a few of her aunts and uncles into showing up, along with a handful of their children. Leia sits to one side of her, the only present member of her side. Ben is predictably at work—the wedding is stressing him out more than she and he likes to pretend it isn’t happening as much as he can. Han, whom she’s not even sure is invited, is absent.

“So, are you excited, Rey?” her aunt Giulia asks.

“Terrified.”

She laughs and pats her on the arm. “That’s normal. Such a big decision, you can only fear you’re making the right choice.”

“Will the jitters go away before the ceremony?”

“Mine did. Fred’s didn’t, but hey, he’s stuck around for the past thirty years.”

“Ben’s are worse. He can’t so much as hear the word ‘wedding’ without needing to leave the room.”

“Really? Dad said your fiancé had been handling it well last they spoke.”

“He realized how soon it was and snapped a few weeks back.”

Ben had been so, so good with his nerves until Leia offhandedly mentioned the date. That night he plied the rest of his planning on the kitchen counter and told Rey she was free to do as she pleased from this point on. Which didn’t make her feel great; she was already swimming on her end. Leia flew in to help, god bless her soul.

“My boy can’t be trusted with anything that’s not math,” Leia mutters. “Logical order, fine, but he’s never handled emotions well.”

“But he’s good with you?” Giulia asks.

“Wonderful, until it comes to stuff like this.” Rey sighs and picks at her food. “I really hope kids don’t happen anytime soon, not before he fixes his avoiding act.”

“Kids might make him come around, who knows.”

 _Didn’t work for his father_ , she thinks glumly. She’s been given the whole story on Han. Some of Ben’s behaviors perfectly mirror his father’s, and for that, she’s nervous. She doesn’t want an absentee husband, and she doesn’t want the man she fell for to completely change once they’re wed.

“He’s not Han,” Leia says quietly. “He was never as much of a wanderer as his father.”

“Is Han coming?”

“Beats me, I haven’t heard from him in over a month. I know Chewie got the invitation, but I doubt either will confirm until they’re seated in the church.”

She hopes, mostly for Ben’s sake, that his father shows up just long enough to be noticed and slips away without a scene. But knowing the family, that doesn’t seem likely. Best prepare for damage control in advance.

• • • 

Ben is home unusually late, as he has been the past month. She left the remains of dinner on the kitchen and retired to the den to read. He looks tired beyond sleep when he slips onto the sofa beside her. “If you cook pasta one more time this week, I’m going to lose it.”

“So make your own dinner. I’m fine with cereal, but you did ask me to cook.”

He glances furtively at the clock. He’s not keeping track of his hours at work. “Pasta’s fine.”

“I went dress shopping today.”

“Didn’t you get a new sundress last Thursday?”

“For the _wedding_.”

“You know I really don’t like talking about it.”

“Can we please, for once, discuss this without you getting ready to make a break for it? At lunch today one of my aunts joked you’d be a runaway groom.”

He puts down his plate. “Fine. And what happened dress shopping?”

“I can’t pick anything. I don’t like any of them and it’s stressing me out. Part of me wants it to be a surprise for you, but the other part thinks it would be best for you to come. You seem to know what suits me better than I.”

“We’ve discussed it before, I want no part in the dress hunt.”

“It would mean a lot to me if you came to see three dresses. Just three. I won’t ask you to stay for the whole time.”

“Rey—”

“Ben, please. It’s important to me.”

He sighs, shoulders heavy. “One time, three dresses. I pick them out, you don’t argue. And then I’m off the wedding committee.”

“Done.” She relaxes back into the couch. “Your father came up at lunch, too.”

“Han? What about him?”

“Leia knows your uncle got the invitation, but she doesn’t know if he’ll show up. I want you to be ready if he does.”

“I don’t want a mess.”

“Neither do I, so I think you need to start facing your nerves instead of shoving them into an unimportant corner for once.”

“They’re not unimportant corners.”

“But you’re avoiding it. What if you push it aside until all of a sudden your father is there, right in front of you, trying to make conversation?”

“Han wouldn’t want to make conversation—”

“That’s not the _point_ , Ben.” She buries her face in her hands. “He’s your dad. You’re his only son. You’re getting married; wouldn’t you want to be there for your kid’s big day?”

“Our,” he corrects softly.

“Pardon?”

“ _Our_ kid’s big day. Assuming you still want kids once we’ve settled in.”

“I will.” She takes his hand. “This is unnecessarily hard, isn’t it? Trying to correct everything for the sake of one afternoon?”

“It sounds like you want it fixed for longer than that.”

“I do. Again, if we’re having kids, I don’t want them to not meet their grandfather because you and he don’t get on. They already won’t meet my parents…”

“I’m sorry, Sunshine.” He kisses the crown of her head, food forgotten on the coffee table. “I can talk to Mom, and I can do my best, but the old man is unpredictable. Never been one for steady routines.”

“If he shows up at all, isn’t that a good sign?”

“I guess.”

“Then return the gesture, Ben. I’ll do the same, to whatever extent I can.”

“Thank you.” He picks up his dinner plate. “You and my mother are ganging up on me too often. I don’t like how close you’re getting.”

“Is that because she tells me all of your buttons to press?”

“At least in part.”

“Good. Someone has to keep you on your toes.” She tucks a curl of dark hair behind his ear. “The wedding will be here before you know it, then you can stop worrying about it.”

"It’s more like I’m sick with anticipation. I don’t like that there’s nothing I can do to move it up in time, and the waiting is making me nauseous.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head. “Already doing so with my shrink, would like to keep the two of you separate entities. Partially because she’s my mom’s age.”

“Are you admitting you’d consider banging your therapist if she were me?”

“No, but that would be one hell of an unhealthy doctor-patient relationship. I’d have to get a new psychiatrist if that were the case.”

“Can you imagine me as a therapist?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not. You’d ask asinine questions and doodle in your notepad all day.”

“Do therapists actually keep notepads?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

She goes back to her book while he turns on the television. They go a half hour of comfortable silence before he breaks the monotony of white noise. He looks nervous, more scared than she’s seen him in months.

“Are you…ready for this? I mean, actually ready?”

“I don’t think I’ll know until the day of, if I’m honest.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be ready even then.” He takes a slow breath. “I’ve been so irrationally worried you’re going to back out. That you’ll realize this is some huge mistake and leave me before we even get to the church.”

“I think this is going to be one of the best decisions of my life,” she says quietly. “And I’m glad you’re finally communicating that to me.”

“You don’t have second thoughts?”

“Not quite. They’re more of ‘slow down’ thoughts, that we’re rushing or not following some almighty guideline that has been passed down for generations. We’ve never done this before and I don’t think I’ll ever feel like the pace is right because of that.”

“You’re worried we’re moving too quickly, I’m nervous because time isn’t moving fast enough.”

“You’re impatient, I’m careful. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“You’ll force me to slow down, and I’ll get you to take risks, how does that sound?”

“I’m not so sure I want to take risks.”

“Isn’t marrying me one?”

“Touché.” She nuzzles into his side. “It’ll be fine. Everything will go as planned.”

“I hope you’re right.”

She hopes so, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup everyone I just finished college! Now I might actually have time in the day to write without feeling guilty about studying.


	28. Ballroom Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the girl in the corner said boy I want to warn you,  
> It'll turn into a ballroom blitz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoes are dumped onto her desk in the middle of a write-up. Startled, she looks away from typing, hands following to make the last line a garbled string of repeating letters. The intruding footwear is black leather, has a single strap across the ankle, and chunky heels. They’re her size, too.

“What’s this about?”

“You have to dance.”

Rey stares piercingly up at her fiancé, thoughts of calling the whole wedding off springing to mind with that one aggressively offensive sentence. “I don’t dance.”

“I am not going to hear any arguments. You’re planning the whole thing without me, I’m allowed this request.”

“I’m planning it because you had a meltdown about the cheese selection. That doesn’t give you grounds to make demands.”

Ben huffs. “I’m not saying vows unless you dance.”

“I’m not marrying you if you make me dance.”

“Just take the damn shoes. You’ve got lessons at seven tonight.”

“Are you…are you seriously going behind my back about this?”

“One goddamn request, let me have one _goddamn_ request.” He slammed the door of her tiny office on his way out.

Jesus, she was looking forward to this whole thing being over. At least then, they could start fighting about normal things like whose turn it was to take out the trash. She’s growing sick of every row being a façade, the topics never important, always hiding the issue underneath.

She’s dead serious though; she’s not dancing.

Seven rolls around and she is whisked from the drafting floor upstairs to one of the conference rooms by the least likely suspect. The table has been removed and all the seating is pressed against the walls, making it look as though a very wild game of musical chairs had only recently ended. She folds her arms over her chest, uncomfortable with the arrangement.

“I don’t want either of you looking like idiots doing one of those boring, predictable, hands-on-shoulders-at-the-middle-school-ball slow dances. Luckily, you’re the only one of the pair who needs to learn.”

Hux looks immaculate in the center of the room, boredom dripping from his expression. It turns out he’s been dancing ballroom since he was a kid. If Rey had known, she would have jumped ship at six. Or begged for literally anyone else to teach her.

“Ben dances formally?”

“We were glued at the hip in college. I went with him to fencing, he came with me to dancing.” Hux shrugs. “He has been elusive about which style he’s planning so to spite him, I won’t teach you tango or samba, his two favorites.”

“By all means, please ruin this for him.”

“Now, now, I do have a reputation to uphold, so I won’t teach you to dance poorly. I will gladly make this hard on him, however.”

She bites her lip. “Did he pass over you for best man?”

“No,” Hux says flatly. “He’s deliberately not telling anyone that at the moment. We can be petty afterwards. Arms up.”

She’s been lying all this time. Hux is quick to find out as he leads her across the floor in a waltz. She doesn’t have all the muscle memory like she used to, but the grace is still there—she’s light on her feet. He makes no remarks until after the song has ended and her legs are warmed up.

“What did you do before?”

“Ballet. Years and years of ballet.”

“Sick to death of it?”

“Just seeing a leotard makes me cringe.” She falls into place with the quickstep, already familiar with a few of the styles. “Do you have a specialty?”

“Greta and I compete Lindy Hop and Charleston.”

“Why am I not surprised? How does her wearing heels work when you dance?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Can she take my place instead?”

“I think that would be in poor taste, though I’d love to boot Ben off the floor.”

She remembers why she hates dancing when she’s out of breath and sweaty on the edge of the room. Her clothes feel sticky in the air conditioning and she’s dreading exiting the building into the mid-May heat. It’s late—almost nine—but the asphalt traps the sunlight and exudes heat long after the dusk has begun to climb into the sky.

“I don’t think I need to teach you anything, but he insists we do this more than once.” Hux’s ginger hair is plastered to his forehead, his cheeks ruddier than usual. “Or we can just pretend I’m giving you lessons.”

“I’d be okay with ditching.”

“Great. Show up Wednesday evening and we’ll split after about fifteen minutes.” 

* * *

“Well, how is she?” Ben asks as Hux slides in next to him at the bar.

“You need to communicate more and I’m appalled by how you’re handling this.” Hux orders before turning back to Ben’s slack jaw. “She’s a former ballerina and you need to pick your best man already, the wedding is in a month and a half. Most people have this done when they send out invitations.”

“She danced ballet?”

“Funny what people tell you when you bother to ask them.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Ben, I asked. You didn’t. You didn’t even make an attempt to ask because you’ve been pussyfooting around for ages. What the hell is going on, and don’t give me anxiety as your excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse—”

“It’s an excuse when it’s a lie. I’ve seen you anxious, and this is not you anxious. This is you sticking your head up your ass and praying everything will get better if you ignore it.”

“It’s about Han, isn’t it?” Phasma pulls out the stool to his right.

“You brought Greta? This isn’t fair.”

“Sorry Ben, but you need a good kick in the ass.”

They’re demons, always plotting, always holding something against him. Sometimes he forgets he was like them years ago, made of the same shark-like angles and ruthlessness. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth is a good start.” Hux takes a drink of his scotch. “We know you’re not fond of your old man, but it’s been a while since you’ve been this…well, useless, Ben.”

“And don’t pull the ‘daddy didn’t love me’ card, we both know that’s false.”

“He wasn’t good about showing it.”

“You get angry about that, not dismissive.”

“You’re both buying me a shot before we go through with this brain picking.”

“Done,” the demons chime in unison.

It takes another hour for him to open up. He hates picking his scabs open and this is no easier than it’s ever been. He could argue it’s been getting worse as the date approaches. He hasn’t seen his father in person in years, and, he admits, he’s afraid to see what’s happened in all that time. Has he grown worse? Has his father? What if this has all been a perception issue, and the conflict is in his head?

“That one’s not true,” Phasma says with a sigh. “The one time I met Leia, she wasn’t quick to hide there was a rift between you and Han.”

“Do you always feel this sorry for yourself?” Hux’s eyes are drooping.

“Not when I’m sober.”

“Maybe that’s the problem—you’re not confronting the root of this. What is it about your dad that makes you so self-deprecating?”

“I never…” Ben sighs, gathering the loose ends of thoughts. “Never really got his approval of anything. I couldn’t tell if he were proud of me, ever. He was almost never home and I guess I just wanted him to see I’d been improving in the time he was gone.”

“And now you’re a successful physicist with a major aerospace firm.” Phasma is the only one still sober, sipping a ginger ale. Thank god. “Why can’t you be proud of yourself without needing him to reaffirm what you already know?”

“What if he thinks I haven’t done well enough for myself?”

Both Phasma and Hux groan, agitated and frustrated. He’s being pigheaded and he knows it.

“You have a doctorate, you’re making six figures, and you’re getting married. What else could he want you to do? Grow six wings and own a champion thoroughbred racehorse?”

“That would be a good start.”

“You can’t grow wings, Ben.” Phasma rubs her temples. “We’re not there with the genetics yet. You could own a horse but you’d go broke.”

“What if he doesn’t like Rey?”

“Have you met a single person who doesn’t like her?”

He rolls his eyes at Hux. “You don’t.”

“I don’t mind her, I’m just not friends with her. I’ve never said anything about disliking her.”

“Armitage is impossible to please, don’t judge anything on him.”

“Listen to her, she’s been the only voice of reason between us for years.”

“Thanks, Greta.” Ben swirls his drink, mind muddled. “I know this is all irrational.”

“Whatever happens, she’s important to you, right? Then it shouldn’t matter whose approval you have. You’re a big boy, Benjamin. You’re in charge of your own happiness.”

“Just because I’m in charge of it doesn’t mean it’s immune to outside forces.”

“If your dad says anything negative about her, I will personally beat him up.”

Phasma grimaces. “Sweetheart, you’re all mouth, no muscle. If you try that, I’ll have to step in. Please do not make me step in.”

“Fine. Anyway,” Hux starts, resting his elbow on the bar, “you should probably bring up this concern to Rey, or one of us might just let it slip in conversation.”

“I’ll disinvite both of you.”

Phasma laughs. “I’m her maid of honor.”

“Wait, did I know this?” Hux asks, sitting up.

“I might have mentioned it off-handedly.”

“I think you have to make Dameron your best man now. Otherwise it’ll feel too double date-y.”

“Hux, it’s a wedding.”

“Still. Double dates, not my thing.”

Ben sighs and it turns into a chuckle. His shoulders feel a little lighter now, a little more confident.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need to finish this story
> 
> I have a not-very-subtle thing for phux hey guys sorry about this I know a handful of you want to burn the ginger weasel at the stake


End file.
